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[ "first of songs," (as Burns calls it) was written by the Rev., in the house of a lady named Montgomery, in the town of Ellon, Aberdeenshire, where he happened to be on a visit. The lady is said to have asked for a song after dinner, in order to put a stop to a political dispute, and at the same time to have expressed surprise that the fine old strathspey, called The Reel of Tullochgorum, had no appropriate words to it. On this hint, Mr. Skinner produced the present song, and it was first printed in the Scots Weekly Magazine for April, 1776. Mr. Skinner was for many years pastor of the episcopal chapel at Longside, near Peterhead, Aberdeenshire, and died in 1807, at the advanced age of eighty-six.]

, gi'e's a sang, Montgomery cried,

And lay your disputes all aside,

What signifies't for folks to chide

For what's been done before them?

Let Whig and Tory all agree,

Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,

Let Whig and Tory all agree,

To drop their Whig-mig-morum;

Let Whig and Tory all agree,

To spend the night in mirth and glee,

And cheerfu' sing alang wi' me

The reel of Tullochgorum.

O, Tullochgorum's my delight,

It gars us a' in ane unite,

And ony sumph that keeps up spite,

In conscience I abhor him.

Blythe and merry we's be a',

Blythe and merry, blythe and merry,

Blythe and merry we's be a'.

And mak' a cheerfu' quorum.

Blythe and merry we's be a',

As lang as we ha'e breath to draw,

And dance, till we be like to fa',

The reel of Tullochgorum.

There needs na' be sae great a phraise,

Wi' dringing dull Italian lays,

I wadna gi'e our ain strathspeys,

For half a hundred score o' 'em.

They're douff and dowie at the best,

Douff and dowie, douff and dowie,

They're douff and dowie at the best,

Wi' a' their variorum.

They're douff and dowie at the best,

Their allegros, and a' the rest,

They canna please a Highland taste,

Compar'd wi' Tullochgorum.

Let warldly minds themselves oppress

Wi' fears of want, and double cess,

And sullen sots themselves distress

Wi' keeping up decorum.

Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,

Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Like auld Philosophorum?

Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,

Nor ever rise to shake a fit

At the reel of Tullochgorum?

May choicest blessings still attend

Each honest open-hearted friend,

And calm and quiet be his end,

And a' that's good watch o'er him!

May peace and plenty be his lot,

Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,

May peace and plenty be his lot,

And dainties a great store o' 'em

May peace and plenty be his lot,

Unstain'd by any vicious blot!

And may he never want a groat

That's fond of Tullochgorum.