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Scrapt haddocks wilks, dulse and tangle
 * And a mill of good snishen to prie

When weary with eating and drinking,
 * We'll rise up and dance till we die.

Then fy let us as to the bridal,
 * For there will be lilting there;

For Jock's to be married to Maggie,
 * The lass wi' the gowden hair.

Rail no more, ye learned asses,
 * 'Gainst the joys the bowl supplies,

Sound it's depth, and fill your glasses,
 * Wisdom at the bottom lies.

Fill them higher still, and higher,
 * Shallow draughts perplex the brain;

Sipping quenches all our fire,
 * Bumpers light it up again.

Draw the scene for wit and pleasure;
 * Enter jollity and joy;

We for thinking have no pleasure we
 * Manly mirth is our employers II

Since in life there's nothing certain,
 * We'll the present hour engage;