Page:Four popular songs (1).pdf/4

 But what are a’ sic mighhty schemes,

When ance the spell is broke man?

A set o' maut-inspiring whims.

That end in perfect smoke, man:

An what e some disaster keen.

Can chase the glamour frae our een.

An bring us to oursels again?

As was the fate o my o d pate,

When that night late I took the gate,

as crouse as ony cock man,

For, sad misluck without my hat

I doiting cam awa man,

And when I down the Drygate cam,

the win' began to blaw man;

When I cam to the Drygate brig.

The win blew aff my gude brown wig,

That whirled like ony whirligig,

As up it flew out o' my view,

While I stood glowring, waefu blue,

wi’ wide extended jaw man.

When I began to grape for t syne.

thrang poutrin wi‘ my staff, man

I coupet owre a muckle stane.

and skailed my pickle snuff man

My staff out o my had did jump

An struck my snout a dreadfu' thump,

Whilk raised a most confounded lump.

But whar it flew I never knew.

Yet sair I rue this mark sae blue,

it leuks sae fleesome waff man