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"I'm leaving you, my weel-won gear,

At least the biggest share o't; And so my hopefu' Johnny dear,

Ye maun take muckle care o't;
And ne'er let it diminish, Jock,

But aye keep adding to it;
Keep an e'e to your ain meal-pock,

For that's the way to do it.

"Stick to my never-iailing rule,

Ye've heard me aft repeat it;
It's ane they dinna teach at school,

It's "cheat or ye'll be cheated!"
Aye mind ye what the Bible says,

Mankind are a' deceivers;
And crooked, crooked are the ways,

E'en o' the best believers.

"They're fules that fecht 'bout kirk or state,

A' parties ye maun flatter;
Do ocht to bring a grist your gate,

Your kirk maun be the happer.
Frae politics nae good I got,

They made me sick and sorry;

But gin that ye can sell your vote,
Be either Whig or Tory!

"It matters little wha's in power,

The puir man's aye neglected; . But if ye've siller, then be sure,

Ye'll live and die respected;
Wi' it you may wear ony coat,

Then steadily pursue it;
Ne'er caution, never lend a groat,

Or ye may live to rue it.

"'Tween love o' drink, and love o' gear,

I've had a desp'rate battle;
My heart beat twa ways, Johnny dear,

Ilk time I wet my thrapple;
It's weel eneugh as lang's that folk,

Will phrase and treat the miller;
But when ye come to pay for't, Jock,

It's death upon the siller.

"Avoid, avoid it, Johnny dear, It's waur than stupid nonsense; Oh! what I've spent is lying here,

A wecht upon my conscience.
I never paid e'en for a jug,

O' puir weak whisky toddy;
But something whispered in my lug—

Man ye're a silly body.

"The lasses, they will set their caps,

Nae doubt, to catch the miller;
Avoid their tea and coukie traps,

They'll lay them for your siller.
And then their mothers lay sic schemes,

And work on simple natures;
They'll turn e'en muckle men to weans,—

They're sly, they're double creatures.

"They're never but they're laying schemes,

To catch the thrifty fallows; But ye'll avoid the cunning dames,

As ye would do the gallows; They're far mair crafty than the men,

If e'er they catch you dreamin; They'll hae you buckled e'er ye ken,

Beware! beware o' women I"

Wi' that the body sough'd awa,

And a' his troubles ended; And so his gear to me did fa',

And I've the heart to spend it. So here's to misers and their ploys!

Somehow they ne'er consider; It's for sic ran tin' roarin' boys,

They claut their gear tegither!

Then fill your glasses to the brim, For now ye've heard my story; The Mill may either sink or swim, We'll carry on the glory!


To an old Highland tune.

The simmer birds are gane,
They're awa across the main,
Yet I rove the woods alone,

Charloch Ban, Charloch Ban.

You promised you'd be here,
When the Autumn leaf grew sere,
And ah noo its winter drear,

Charloch Ban, Charloch Ban.

O then ye were my pride,
By the green Glen-gary side,
When ye said I'd be your bride,

Charloch Ban, Charloch Ban.

Ye were a joy to see,

Wi' thy tartans waving free,

• Fair Charlie.

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