Page:Bon-Accord Sangster.pdf/3

 The Drunkard wields the tyrant's rod

O'er wife an' weans, an' a' that,

Regard to man or fear of God,

His words an' works ne'er shaw that;

For a' that an' a' that,

An equal yoke we draw that,

An' train our youth to do the truth,

An' walk in love an' a' that.

The Pauper's fauld, the Felon's hauld,

The Tipler's howff an' a' that;

Driuk fills the hive wi' drones that thrive

On labour's fruits for a' that:

For a' that an' a' that,

Now Self-defence maun law, that

The Ship that fails in helm and sails,

Permissive Tug maun draw that.

Then Temp'rance' Sons unfurl your flag,

Whatever blast may blaw that,

Till Scotland rise an' crush the cag

That dribbles death an' a' that.

For a' that an' a' that,

Tak' steady aim at a' that,

And let the word be BON-ACCORD,

That binds our ranks an' a' that.

Yon are going for your pay, for your fortnight's pay, my dear,

And, lest ye do as many do, my heart is filled with fear;

'Tis the eve of Saturday, and a Public-house the place,

And, Oh, how many there have rushed on ruin and disgrace!

When you raise the poison-cup, and pour out a long tirade,

Oh, I fear you will forget the solemn promises you've made;