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 3 May Tapsters soon to Temp’rance crouch, Wi a’ their raggit roguies; They turn the brain, an’ teem the pouch, While crouse they fill the cogies. Chor.—Oh, wae betide the three-gird cog, &c.

Then stand we firm as Bennachie, An’ cauler as the Bogie, Till Scotland, first amang the free, In flinders ca’ the cogie! Chor.—Oh, wae betide the three-gird cog, The sly, bewitchin’ cogie; Nor simmer frost nor autumn fog Brings hauf sic scaith on Bogie.

THE PLEASURE TRIP.

TUNE—“ Comin’ thro’ the rye”

Gin the couthy meet rue drouthy, Comin’ frae the toun; Need the drouthy wi’ the couthy Sense an’ reason droun? Tho’ Holiday bids Labour play, An’ failin’ health recruit, Yet need a body lat the toldy Make the man a brute?

Let Labour’s shanks leave shafts an’ cranks, An’ roam by mount or main; But shun the dens where tappit hens Cleck nought but shame an’ pain; Ilka valley has a wallie, Free to loon an’ laird; There fling your length, renew your strength, An’ drink till ye be sair’d

Gin retailer meet a sailor, Freed frae line an’ log: Need the sailor lat retailer Droun him in his grog?