A YE wha live by sowps o drink,
A ye wha live by crambo-clink,
A ye wha live and never think,
Come, mourn wi me!
Our billie s gien us a a jink,
An owre the sea!
Lament him a ye rantin core,
Wha dearly like a random splore;
Nae mair hell join the merry roar;
In social key;
For now hes taen anither shore.
An owre the sea!
The bonie lasses weel may wiss him,
And in their dear petitions place him:
The widows, wives, an a may bless him
Wi tearfu ee;
For weel I wat theyll sairly miss him
Thats owre the sea!
O Fortune, they hae room to grumble!
Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle,
Wha can do nought but fyke an fumble,
Twad been nae plea;
But he was gleg as ony wumble,
Thats owre the sea!
Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers wear,
An stain them wi the saut, saut tear;
Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear,
In flinders flee:
He was her Laureat mony a year,
Thats owre the sea!
He saw Misfortunes cauld nor-west
Lang mustering up a bitter blast;
A jillet brak his heart at last,
Ill may she be!
So, took a berth afore the mast,
An owre the sea.
To tremble under Fortunes cummock,
On a scarce a bellyfu o drummock,
Wi his proud, independent stomach,
Could ill agree;
So, rowt his hurdies in a hammock,
An owre the sea.
He neer was gien to great misguidin,
Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in;
Wi him it neer was under hiding;
He dealt it free:
The Muse was a that he took pride in,
Thats owre the sea.
Jamaica bodies, use him weel,
An hap him in cozie biel:
Yell find him aye a dainty chiel,
An fou o glee:
He wad na wrangd the vera deil,
Thats owre the sea.
Farewell, my rhyme-composing billie!
Your native soil was right ill-willie;
But may ye flourish like a lily,
Now bonilie!
Ill toast you in my hindmost gillie,
Tho owre the sea!
