Page:Tak your auld cloak about ye (3).pdf/8

 I winna bae the domniee, guid he cannie be,

But I will hae my Sandy lad, my Sandy o‘er the lee.

For he‘s ay a-kissing, kissing, ay a-kissing, me;

He's ay a-'kissing, kissing, ay a-kissing me.

I winna hae the minister for all his godly Looks,

Nor yet yill I the lawyer hae, for a’ his wily crooks;

I winna hae the plowman lad, nor yet will I the miller,

But I will hae my Sandy lad without a penny siller,

For he's ay a-kissing, &c.

I winna hae the soldier lad for he gangs to the war;

I winna hae the soldier lad because he smells o’ tar;

I winna hae the lord nor laird for a’ their meikle gear,

But l will hae my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'er the muir,

For he's ay a-kissing, &c,

Should I die by the force of good wine,

‘Tis my will that a ton by my shrine,

And for ages yet to come,

Let this be engrav d upon my tomb—

Here lies a body, once so brave,

That be by drinking made his grave,

Sines tha to die will purchase fame,

And raise us up a lasting name,

Drink about, and dare to be nobly interr'd;

Let misers and knaves

Slink into their graves

And rot in a dirty churchyard.