Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet,
     Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet,
     Gae seek for pleasure whare you will,
     But here I never miss’d it yet,
     We’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t,
     We’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t;
     The minister kiss’d the fiddler’s wife;
     He could na preach for thinkin o’t.

Song—­Tam Glen

     My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie,
     Some counsel unto me come len’,
     To anger them a’ is a pity,
     But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen?

     I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fellow,
     In poortith I might mak a fen;
     What care I in riches to wallow,
     If I maunna marry Tam Glen!

     There’s Lowrie the Laird o’ Dumeller—­
     “Gude day to you, brute!” he comes ben: 
     He brags and he blaws o’ his siller,
     But when will he dance like Tam Glen!

     My minnie does constantly deave me,
     And bids me beware o’ young men;
     They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
     But wha can think sae o’ Tam Glen!

     My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him,
     He’d gie me gude hunder marks ten;
     But, if it’s ordain’d I maun take him,
     O wha will I get but Tam Glen!

     Yestreen at the Valentine’s dealing,
     My heart to my mou’ gied a sten’;
     For thrice I drew ane without failing,
     And thrice it was written “Tam Glen”!

     The last Halloween I was waukin
     My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken,
     His likeness came up the house staukin,
     And the very grey breeks o’ Tam Glen!

     Come, counsel, dear Tittie, don’t tarry;
     I’ll gie ye my bonie black hen,
     Gif ye will advise me to marry
     The lad I lo’e dearly, Tam Glen.

Carle, An The King Come

     Chorus.—­Carle, an the King come,
     Carle, an the King come,
     Thou shalt dance and I will sing,
     Carle, an the King come.

     An somebody were come again,
     Then somebody maun cross the main,
     And every man shall hae his ain,
     Carle, an the King come. 
     Carle, an the King come, &c.

     I trow we swapped for the worse,
     We gae the boot and better horse;
     And that we’ll tell them at the cross,
     Carle, an the King come. 
     Carle, an the King come, &c.

     Coggie, an the King come,
     Coggie, an the King come,
     I’se be fou, and thou’se be toom
     Coggie, an the King come. 
     Coggie, an the King come, &c.

The Laddie’s Dear Sel’

     There’s a youth in this city, it were a great pity
     That he from our lassies should wander awa’;
     For he’s bonie and braw, weel-favor’d witha’,
     An’ his hair has a natural buckle an’ a’.