The Peck O’punch Poem by Robert Anderson

'Twas Rob and Jock, and Hal and Jack,
And Tom and Ned forby,
Wi' Archy drank a Peck o' Punch,
Ae neet when they were dry;
And aye they jwok'd, and laugh'd, and smuik'd,
And sang wi' heartfelt glee,
``To--night were yen, to--morrow geane,
``Syne let us merry be!''

Saint Mary's muckle clock bumm'd eight,
When each popp'd in his head;
But ere they rose, they'd fairly drank
The sheame--feac'd muin to bed;
And aye they jwok'd, &c.

To monie a bonnie Carel lass,
The fairest o' the town,
And monie a manly British chiel,
The noggin glass went roun;
And aye they jwok'd, &c.

A neybor's fau'ts they ne'er turn'd owre,
Nor yence conceal'd their ain--
Had Care keak'd in, wi' wae--worn feace,
They'd kick'd him out again;
For aye they jwok'd, &c.

The daily toil, the hunter's spoil,
The faithless foreign pow'rs,
The Consul's fate, his o'ergrown state,
By turns beguil'd the hours;
And aye they laugh'd, &c.

Let others cringe, and bow the head,
A purse--proud sumph to please;
Fate, grant to me aye liberty
To mix with souls like these;
Then oft we'll jwoke, and laugh, and smuik,
And sing wi' heartfelt glee,
``To--night we're yen, to--morrow geane,
``Syne let us merry be!''