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Modesty is dead, and virtue is fled,
 * And wisdom's deserted the nation;

The beautiful sound of honour's call'd down,
 * It fill'd my poor heart with vexation.

Now, my brave boys, is the time to be wise,
 * And guard against female delusion,

For the fairest you see they create misery,
 * And end with great shame and confusion.

Great Samson was strong, but by women was flung,
 * And women made Solomon simple;

Both Adam with Eve, and Jacob a slave,
 * And Troy they have made an example;

Had I woman's skill, all the French I would kill,
 * Or bring them to capitulation,

And with my broad sword I would end the discord,
 * And reconcile every nation.

If my wife she should die, not a word I would cry,
 * Nor no one should hear me lamenting,

But single again, while life would remain,
 * Experience would settle my ranting.

Were I age seventeen, and proffer'd a queer,
 * And all the riches that adorned Jerusalem,

The devil a she should ever catch me,
 * Tho' I'd live to be as old as Methuselah.

Adieu to the village, the best on the plain, The laigh glen and green hill I'll ne'er see ageing, Adieu to all sorrows, and adieu to all care, My ain auld frail folks and the lasses so fair. At Church, where I promis’d, in folly, to part, The man that injur'd me I leave, without smart, But oh! how the Sons of our Lodge can I lea', And gang to my long hame, the cauld house of clay.