The Book of Scottish Song/The Social Cup 2

The Social Cup.

[At page 192 will be found the original version of this popular song, by Captain Charles Gray, which was written for the first anniversary of the Anstruther Musomanik Society, in October, 1814. We here give the author's latest improved copy, as it appears in his "Lays and Lyrics." The two versions, it will be seen, differ materially from each other.— Air, "Andro and his cutty gun."]

Blythe, blythe, and merry are we,
Blythe are we, ane and a';
Aften ha'e we cantie been,
But sic a nicht we never saw!
The gloamin saw us a' sit down,
And meikle mirth has been our fa';
Then let the sang and toast gae roun'
'Till chanticleer begins to craw!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we—
Pick and wale o' merry men;
What care we though the cock may craw,
We're masters o' the tappit-hen!

The auld kirk bell has chappit twal—
Wha cares though she had chappit twa!
We're licht o' heart and winna part,
Though time and tide may rin awa!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we—
Hearts that care can never ding;
Then let time pass—we'll steal his glass,
And pu' a feather frae his wing!

Now is the witchin' time of nicht,
When ghaists, they say, are to be seen;
And fays dance to the glow-worm's licht
Wi' fairies in their gowns of green.
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we—
Ghaists may tak' their midnicht stroll;
Witches ride on grooms astride,
While we sit by the witchin' bowl!

Tut! never speir how wears the morn—
The moon's still blinkin' i' the sky,
And, gif like her we fill our horn,
I dinna doubt we'll drink it dry!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we—
Blythe out-owre the barley bree;
And let me tell, the moon hersel'
Aft dips her toom horn i' the sea!

Then fill us up a social cup,
And never mind the dapple-dawn.
Just sit awhile—the sun may smile
And licht us a' across the lawn!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we;—
See! the sun is keekin' ben;
Gi'e time his glass—for months may pass
Ere we ha'e sic a nicht again!

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