If ony here has got an ear,
He'd better tak a haud o me,
Or I'll begin, wi roarin din,
To cheer our old Academy.
Dear old Academy,
Queer old Academy,
A merry lot we were, I wot,
When at the old Academy.
There's some may think me crouse wi drink,
And some may think it mad o me,
But ither some will gladly come
And cheer our old Academy.
Some set their hopes on Kings and Popes,
But, o the sons of Adam, he
Was first, without the smallest doubt,
That built the first Academy.
Let Pedants seek for scraps of Greek,
Their lingo to Macadamize;
Gie me the sense, without pretence,
That comes o Scots Academies.
Let scholars all, both grit and small,
Of Learning mourn the sad demise;
That's as they think, but we will drink
Good luck to Scots Academies.
