3
There needs na be sae great a phrase
Wi' bringing dull Italian lays;
I wadna gie our ain strathspeys
For hauf a hunder score o'm.
They're dowff and dowie at the best,
Dowff and dowie, dowff and dowie,
They're dowff and dowie at the best,
Wi' a' their variorum:
They're dowff and dowie at the best,
Their, allegros, and a’ the rest,
They canna please a Highland taste,
Compar'd wi' Tullochgorum.
May choicest blessings still attend
Each honest-hearted open friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,
Be a' that's gude before him!
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty
May peace and plenty be his lot,
And dainties a great store o'm:
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unstain'd by any vicious blot!
And may he never want a groat
That's fond of Tullochgorum.
But for the discontented fool,
Wha wants to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,
And blackest fiends devour him!
