(TO A PIPE TUNE)

O, IT'S fine when the New an the Auld Year meet,
An the lads gang roarin i' the lichtit street,
An there's me an there's Alick an the miller's loon,
An Geordie that's the piper oot o Forfar toon.
Geordie Faa! Geordie Faa!
Up wi the chanter, lad, an gie's a blaw!
For we'll step to the tune while we've feet in till oor shuin,
Tho the bailies an the provost be to sort us a'!
We've three bonnie bottles, but the third ane's tuim,
Gin the road ran whisky, it's mysel wad soom!
But we'll stan' while we can, an be dancin while we mey,
For there's twa we hae to feenish, an it's Hogmanay.
Geordie Faa! Geordie Faa!
There's an auld carle glowerin oot ahint yon waa,
But we'll suin gar him lowp to the pipin till he cowp,
For we'll gie him juist a drappie, an he'll no say na!
My heid's dementit an my feet's the same,
When they'll no wark thegither it's a lang road hame;
An we've twa mile to traivel or it's mair like three,
But I've got a grip o Alick, an ye'd best grip me:
Geordie Faa! Geordie Faa!
The morn's near brakin an we'll need awa,
Gin ye're aye blawin strang, then we'll mibbie get alang,
An the deevil tak the laddie that's the first to fa'!