On A Scotch Bard, Gone To The West Indie

  on a scotch bard, gone to the west indies
  a' ye wha live by sowps o' drink,
  a' ye wha live by crambo-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 mair he'll join the merry roar;
  in social key;
  for now he's taen anither shore.
  an' owre the sea!
  the bonie lasses weel may wiss him,
  and in their dear petitions place him:
  the widows, wives, an' a' may bless him
  wi' tearfu' e'e;
  for weel i wat they'll sairly miss him
  that's owre the sea!
  o fortune, they hae room to grumble!
  hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle,
  wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble,
  'twad been nae plea;
  but he was gleg as ony wumble,
  that's owre the sea!
  auld, cantie kyle may weepers wear,
  an' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear;
  'twill mak her poor auld heart, i fear,
  in flinders flee:
  he was her laureat mony a year,
  that's owre the sea!
  he saw misfortune's cauld nor-west
  lang mustering up a bitter blast;
  a jillet brak his heart at last,
  ill may she be!
  so, took a berth afore the 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 hurdies in a hammock,
  an' owre the sea.
  he ne'er was gien to great misguidin,
  yet coin his pouches wad na bide in;
  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' hap him in cozie biel:
  ye'll find him aye a dainty chiel,
  an' fou o' glee:
  he wad na wrang'd the vera deil,
  that's owre the sea.
  farewell, my rhyme-composing billie!
  your native soil was right ill-willie;
  but may ye flourish like a lily,
  now bonilie!
  i'll toast you in my hindmost gillie,
  tho' owre the sea!