A’ ye wha live by sowpso’ drink,
A’ ye wha live bycrambo-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 mairhe’ll join the merry roar;
In social key;
For now he’s taen anithershore.
An’ owre the sea!
The bonielasses weel may wisshim,
And in their dear petitions place him:
The widows, wives, an’ a’ may bless him
Wi’ tearfu’ e’e;
For weelI watthey’ll sairlymiss him
That’s owre the sea!
O Fortune, they haeroom to grumble!
Hadst thou taenaffsome drowsy bummle,
Whacan do nought but fykean’ fumble,
‘Twad been naeplea;
But he was glegas ony wumble,
That’s owre the sea!
Auld, cantieKyle may weeperswear,
An’ stain them wi’ the saut, sauttear;
‘Twill makher poor auldheart, I fear,
In flindersflee:
He was her Laureat mony a year,
That’s owre the sea!
He sawMisfortune’s cauldnor-west
Langmustering up a bitter blast;
A jilletbrakhis heart at last,
Ill may she be!
So, took a berth aforethe mast,
An’ owre the sea.
To tremble under Fortune’s cummock,
On a scarce a bellyfu’ o’ drummock,
Wi’ his proud, independent stomach,
Could ill agree;
So, row’t his hurdiesin a hammock,
An’ owre the sea.
He ne’er was giento great misguidin,
Yet coin his pouches wad na bidein;
Wi’him it ne’er was under hiding;
He dealt it free:
The Muse was a’that he took pride in,
That’s owre the sea.
Jamaica bodies, use him weel,
An’ haphim in cozie biel:
Ye’ll find him aye a dainty chiel,
An’fouo’glee:
He wadnawrang’d the veradeil,
That’s owre the sea.
Farewell, my rhyme-composing billie!
Your native soil was right ill-willie;
Butmay ye flourish like a lily,
Now bonilie!
I’ll toast you in my hindmost gillie,
Tho’ owrethe sea!