We went owre to Deavie' Clay Daubin,
And faith a rare caper we had,
Wi' eatin, and drinkin, and dancin,
And rwoarin, and singin leyke mad;
Wi' crackin, and jwokin, and braggin,
And fratchin, and feightin and aw;
Sec glorious fun and divarsion
Was ne'er seen in castle or haw.
Sing hey for a snug clay biggin,
And lasses that leyke a bit spwort;
Wi' friens and plenty to gi'e them,
We'll laugh at King Gworge and his cwort.

The waws were aw finish'd er darknin;
Now, greypes, shouls, and barrows thrown by,
Auld Deavie spak up wid a hursle--
'Od rabbit it! lads, ye'll he dry;
'See, deame, if we've got a swope whusky--
'I's sworry the rum bottle's duin--
'We'll starken our keytes, I'll uphod us--
'Come, Adams, rasp up a lal tune!'

When Bill kittl'd up ''Chips and Shavins,''
Auld Philip poud out Matty Meer,
Then nattl'd his heels like a youngen,
And caper'd about the clay fleer;
He deeted his gob, and he buss'd her,
As lish as a lad o' sixteen;
Cries Wull, 'Od dy! fadder's i' fettle!
'His marrow 'll niver be seen!'

Reet sair did we miss Jemmy Coupland--
Bad crops, silly man, meade him feale;
Last Sunday fwornuin, efter sarvice,
I'th' kurk--garth, the clark caw'd his seale.
Peer Jemmy! of aw his bit oddments
A shettle the bealies ha'e ta'en,
And now he's reet fain of a darrak,
For pan, dish, or spuin, he hes neane.

Wi' scons, leather--hungry, and whusky,
Auld Aggy cried, 'Meake way for me!
'Ye men fwok, eat, drink and be murry,
'Wheyle we i' the bower get tea.'
The whillymer eat teugh and teasty,
Aw cramm'd fou o' grey pez and seeds;
They row'd it up teane agean tudder--
Nae dainties the hungry man needs.

Now in com the women fwok buncing--
Widout tem there's niver nee fun;
Wi' whusky aw weeted their wizzens,
But suin a sad hay--bay begun;
For Jock, the young laird, was new wedded,
His auld sweetheart Jenny luik'd wae;
While some were aw titterin and flyrin,
The lads rubb'd her down wi' pez strae.

Rob Lowson tuik part wi' peer Jenny,
And brong snift'ring Gwordie a cluff;
I'th' scuffle they leam'd Lowson' mudder,
And fain they'd ha'e stripp'd into buff:
Neist Peter caw'd Gibby a rebel,
And aw rwoar'd out, that was wheyte wrang;
Cried Deavie, 'Shek hans, and nae mair on't--
'I's sing ye a bit of a sang.'

He lilted ''The King and the Tinker,''
And Wully strack up ''Robin Hood;''
Dick Mingins tried ''Hooly and Fairly,''
And Martha ''The Babs o' the Wood:''
They push'd round a glass leyke a noggin,
And bottom'd the greybeard complete;
Then crack'd till the muin glowr'd amang them,
And wish'd yen anudder guid neet.