Classic Poem

TUNE—“FOR OUR LANG BIDING HERE.”

When we came to London town,
 We dream'd of gowd in gowpings here,
And rantinly ran up and down,
 In rising stocks to buy a skair:
We daftly thought to row in rowth,
 But for our daffin paid right dear;
The lave will fare the war in trouth,
 For our lang biding here.

But when we fand our purses toom,
 And dainty stocks began to fa',
We hang our lugs, and wi' a gloom,
 Girn'd at stock-jobbing ane and a'.
If we gang near the South-Sea house,
 The whillywhas will grip ye'r gear,
Syne a' the lave will fare the war,
 For our lang biding here.