YE that are lords o fixed
Ye that are lords by why lies;
Ye proveses o rank, and ye
That are but baron-bailies;
Ye members o the shires an broughs,
Win up, an hud ye ready
To boo your backs an crook your houghs
Afore your sovran leddy.
Ye ministers and men o
Peace sodgers an land sailors,
Auld heroes to the service dear,
An young anes dear to tailors,
Ye new-made knichts an' nobles a
She made ye men o honour;
Weel may ye rise up in a raw
An shooer your thanks upon her.
Ye waitin dames sae dink
Wi' laids o* costly claithing;
Ye bonnie lasses, best o a'
Wi* juist a flooeror naething!
Ye office wands, an' flunkey lords,
An pages pouthered meetly
Noo hud a ticht grip o the cords
An guide the coorse discreetly.
Ye college dons, fra
To him that but professes,
Noo, noos the time to tuck your goun
An draw up your addresses;
An' let your Latin be as snug
As if she kent the roond ot,
For by my faith shell lend a lug
An judge ye by the soond ot.
Ye parsons groanin aye wi
The warlds maybe mendin;
Ye lawyers, lay aside your briefs,
Ill-namedthey neer have endin;
An tak the hills or tak the dales
As wild as eer ye wandert,
Like laddies broken fra the schules
An free o stripe an standart!
An, lastly, ye that flood
A roarin spate o people,
Splashed up to wa an window-seat,
To chimla-stack ansteeple
It sets ye weel to male* the din
Ye may indulge the morn,
But dinna loup oot o' your skin,
An* be content wi' roarin.
Ye hills, sune to be
As if by-lichtnin' smitten,
Ye countries scattered ower the sea
That mak' the Greater Britain,
Shout an' shine oot! tell a* that speer,
Wi' a the speed ye may noo,
That after towlin' fifty year,
Oor Queen taks holiday noo!
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