Page:Jolly beggar (5).pdf/5

 And ay since he wore tartan hose,

He dearly load 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‘d 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 wisky, 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 o‘ Music, come,

I find my heart grows unco glum,

My fiddle strings will no play bum,

To say fareweel to whisky, O.