Chorus:
Then up wi' it a' my plooman lad
Hey my merry plooman
Of a' the trades that I do ken
Commend me tae the plooman

The plooman he comes hame at e'en,
He's often wet and weary,
Cast aff the wet, pit on the dry,
And gae tae bed my dearie.

And I will wash my plooman's hose,
I will dress his o'erlay,
I will mak my plooman's bed,
And cheer him late and early.

I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been at St Johnstone,
But the bonniest sight that e'er I saw,
Was the plooman laddie dancing.

Snaw-white stockings on his legs,
Silver buckles glancin',
A guid blue bonnet on his heid,
And oh, but he was handsome.

Commend me tae the barnyaird,
And the corn mou' man,
I never gast my cogie fu',
Till I met wi the plooman.

Again the merry month of May,
Has made our hills and vallies gay;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers;
Blythe morning lifts his rosy eye,
And evening's tears are tears o' joy:
My soul delightless a' surveys,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.

Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
Amang her nestlings sits the thrush:
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
Or wi' his song her cares beguile.
But I wi' my sweet nurslings here,
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.

O, wae be tae ye, Men o' State,
That brethren rouse in deadly hate,
As ye make monie a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return.
How can your flinty hearts enjoy,
The widow's tears, the orphan's cry;
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie hame to Logan braes.

Is there, for honest poverty,
That hings his head, and a' that,
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
Our toils obscure, and a' that,
The rank is but the the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, and a' that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A man's a man for a' that,
For a' that and a' that,
Their tinsel show and a' that;
The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts and stares and a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that and a' that,
His ribband, star and a' that;
The man of independendent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.

A Prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith he mauna fa' that!
For a' that and a' that,
Their dignities and a' that;
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

5. Then let us pray that come it may,
as come it will for a' that,
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree and a' that:
For a' that and a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That man to man the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

What force or guile could not subdue,
Thro' many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitor's wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station.
But English gold has been our bane:
Sic a parcel of rogues in a nation.

Oh, would or I had seen the day,
That treason thus could sell us!
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace.
But, pith and power, till my last hour,
I'll make this declaration:
We are bought and sold for English gold,
Sic a parcel of rogues in a nation.

The deil cam fiddlin thro' the town
And danced awa wi' th' Exciseman;
And ilka wife cries, auld Mahoun,
I wish you luck o' the prize, man.

Chorus:
The deil's awa, the deil's awa,
The deil's awa wi' th' Exciseman,
He's danced awa, he's danced awa,
He's danced awa wi' th' Exciseman.

We'll mak our maut and we'll brew our drink,
We'll laugh, sing and rejoice, man;
And mony braw thanks to the meikle black deil,
That danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman.

There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels,
There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man,
But ay the best dance e'er cam to the land,
Was, the deilOs awa wi' th' Exciseman.

My Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!

The Shepherd's wife cries o'er the knowe:
"Will ye come hame, will ye come hame?"
The shepherd's wife cries o'er the knowe,
"Will ye come hame again e'en, jo?"

"What will ye gie me tae my supper,
Gin I come hame, gin I come hame?
What will ye gie me tae my supper,
Gin I come hame again e'en, jo?"

"Ye's get a panfu' o' plumpin parridge
And butter in them and butter in them
Ye's get a panfu' o' plumpin parridge
Gin ye'll come hame again e'en, jo."

Chorus
"Ha ha how, that's naething that dow,
I winna come hame, I canna come hame,
Ha ha how, that's naething that dow,
I winna come hame again e'en, jo."

"A reekin fat hen, weel fried i' the pan,
Gin ye'll come hame, gin ye'll come hame,
A reekin fat hen, weel fried i' the pan,
Gin ye'll come hame again e'en, jo."

Chorus

"Ye's get a clean cogie o uisque beatha,
Gin ye'll come hame, gin ye'll come hame.
Ye's get a clean cogie o uisque beatha,
Gin ye'll come hame again e'en, jo."
Chorus

"A loving wife in lily-white linens,
Gin ye'll come hame, gin ye'll come hame.
A loving wife in lily-white linens,
Gin ye'll come hame again e'en, jo."

"Ha ha how, that's something that dow
I will come hame, I will come hame
Ha ha how, that's something that dow
I will come hame again e'en, jo."

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever,
Ae farewell, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and goans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me nae cheerful twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy:
Naething could resist my Nancy,
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met - or never parted -
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest,
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest,
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure.
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever,
Ae farewell, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allen cam to see;
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wadna found in Christendie.

Chorus: "We are na fou, we're nae that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw
And aye we'll taste the barley bree."

Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And mony a night we've merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be.

It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinkinO in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee.

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
Wha first beside his chair shall fa',
He is the King amang us three.

Ye banks and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie.
There simmer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry:
For there I took the last Fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom.
The golden Hours, on angel's wings,
Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder:
But Oh, fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my Flower sae early,
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary.

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly,
And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance,
That dwalt on me sae kindly.
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly,
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

Where hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Where hae ye been sae brankie-o?
Where hae ye been sae braw lad?
Cam' ye by Killiecrankie-o?

Chorus: An ye had been where I hae been
Ye wad na been sae cantie-o
An ye had seen what I hae seen
On the braes of Killiecrankie-o!

I fought at land, I fought at sea,
At hame I fought my Auntie-o;
I met the devil, and Dundee,
On the braes of Killiecrankie-o.

Oh, fie, MacKay, what gart ye lie
I' the bush ayont the brankie-o,
But ye'd better kiss King Willie's loof,
Than come tae Killiecrankie-o.

The bold Pitcur fell in a furr,
And Clavers got a clankie-o,
Or had I fed an Atholl gled,
On the braes of Killiecrankie-o.

It's nae shame, it's nae shame,
It's nae shame t'shank ye-o,
There's sour slaes on Atholl braes,
And the De'il at Killiecrankie-o.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

Chorus
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely you'll be your pint stoup,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll tak a richt guid-willie waucht,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run aboot the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidled in the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared,
Sin' auld lang syne.

And there's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.