Now mirk December's dowie face
Glours our the rigs wi' sour
grimace,
While, thro' his minimum of
space,
The bleer-ey'd sun,
Wi' blinkin light and stealing
pace,
His race doth run.
From naked groves nae birdie
sings;
To shepherd's pipe nae hillock
rings;
The breeze nae od'rous flavour
brings
From Borean cave;
And dwyning Nature droops her
wings,
Wi' visage grave.
Mankind but scanty pleasure
glean
Frae snawy hill or barren plain,
Whan Winter, 'midst his nipping
train,
Wi' frozen spear,
Sends drift owr a' his bleak
domain,
And guides the weir.
Auld Reikie! thou'rt the canty
hole,
A bield for mony caldrife soul,
Wha snugly at thine ingle loll,
Baith warm and couth;
While round they gar the bicker
roll
To weet their mouth.
When merry Yule-day comes, I
trow,
You'll scantlins find a hungry
mou;
Sma' are our cares, our stamacks
fou
O' gusty gear,
And kickshaws, strangers to our
view,
Sin fairn-year.
Ye browster wives, now busk ye
bra,
And fling your sorrows far awa';
Then, come and gies the tither
blaw
Of reaming ale,
Mair precious than the well of
Spa,
Our hearts to heal.
Then , tho' at odds wi' a' the
warl',
Amang oursells we'll never
quarrel;
Tho' Discord gie a canker'd
snarl
To spoil our glee,
As lang's there's pith into the
barrel
We'll drink and 'gree.
Fidlers, your pins in temper
fix,
And roset weel your
fiddlesticks,
But banish vile Italian tricks
From out your quorum,
Nor fortes wi' pianos mix,
Gie's Tulloch Gorum.
For nought can cheer the heart
sae weil
As can a canty Highland reel;
It even vivifies the heel
To skip and dance:
Lifeless is he wha canna feel
Its influence.
Let mirth abound, let social
cheer
Invest the dawning of the year;
Let blithesome innocence appear
To crown our joy;
Nor envy wi' sarcastic sneer,
Our bliss destroy.
And thou, great god of Aqua
Vitae!
Wha sways the empire of this
city,
When fou we're sometimes
caperoity,
Be thou prepar'd
To hedge us frae that black
banditti,
The City-Guard.
