Tibby Fowler/Fareweel to whisky
FAREWEEL TO WHISKY.
You've surely heard o' famous Neil,
The man that play'd the fiddle weel
I wat he was a canty chiel,
And dearly lo'ed the whisky, O.
And ay since he wore tartan hose,
He dearly lo'ed the Athol brose,
And wae he was, you may suppose,
To play fareweel to whisky, O.
Alake, quoth Neil, I'm frail and auld,
I find my bluid growing unco cauld,
I think 'twad mak me blythe and bauld
A wee drap Highland whisky, O.
And yet the doctors a' agree,
That whisky's no the thing for me;
Saul! quoth Neil, they'll spoil my glee,
Should they part me and whisky, O.
Tho' I can get baith wine and ale,
And find my head and fingers hale,
I'll be content, tho' legs should fail,
To play fareweel to whisky, O.
But still I think on auld lang syne,
When Paradise our friends did tyne,
Because something ran in their min',
Forbid, like Highland whisky, O.
Come a' ye powers of Music, come,
I find my heart grows unco glum,
My fiddle strings will no play bum,
To say fareweel to whisky, O.
I'll tak my fiddle in my hand,
And screw the strings up while they stand,
To mak a lamentation grand,
On gude auld Highland whisky, O.
FINIS