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OUR FAMILIAR SONGS.
There needs na be sae great a fraise, Wi' dringing dull Italian lays ; I wadna gie our ain strathspeys
For hauf-a-hunder score o' them. They're dowf and dowie at the best, Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie, They're dowf and dowie at the best,
Wi' a' their variorum. They're dowf and dowie at the best, Their Allegros and a' the rest: They canna please a Highland taste,
Compared wi' Tullochgorum.
Let warldly minds themselves oppress Wi' fears o' want and dOURle cess, And silly sots themselves distress
Wi' keeping up decorum. Shall we sae sour and sulky sit? Sour and sulky, sour and sulky, Sour and sulky shall we sit,
Like auld Philosophorum ? Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit, Not ever rise to shake a fit
To the reel o' Tullochgonua ?
May choicest blessings aye attend Each honest, open-hearted friend, And calm and quiet be his end,
And a' that's gude watch o'er him. May peace and plenty be his lot, Peace and plenty, peace and plenty, Peace and plenty be his lot,
And dainties a great store o' 'em; May peace and plenty be his lot, Unstain'd by ony vicious blot, And may he never want a groat,
That's fond o' Tullochgorum !
But for the discontented fool Who loves to be oppression's tool, May envy knaw his rotten soul,
And discontent devour him ! May dool and sorrow be his chance, Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow, Dool and sorrow be his chance.
And nane say, wae's me for him; May dool and sorrow be his chance, And a' the ills that come frae France, Whae'er he be that winna dance
The reel o' Tullochgorum.