on a scotch bard, gone to the west indies
a' ye wha live by sowps o' drink,
a' ye wha live by crambo-clink,
a' ye wha live and never think,
come, mourn wi' me!
our billie 's gien us a' a jink,
an' owre the sea!
lament him a' ye rantin core,
wha dearly like a random splore;
nae mair he'll join the merry roar;
in social key;
for now he's taen anither shore.
an' owre the sea!
the bonie lasses weel may wiss him,
and in their dear petitions place him:
the widows, wives, an' a' may bless him
wi' tearfu' e'e;
for weel i wat they'll sairly miss him
that's owre the sea!
o fortune, they hae room to grumble!
hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle,
wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble,
'twad been nae plea;
but he was gleg as ony wumble,
that's owre the sea!
auld, cantie kyle may weepers wear,
an' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear;
'twill mak her poor auld heart, i fear,
in flinders flee:
he was her laureat mony a year,
that's owre the sea!
he saw misfortune's cauld nor-west
lang mustering up a bitter blast;
a jillet brak his heart at last,
ill may she be!
so, took a berth afore the mast,
an' owre the sea.
to tremble under fortune's cummock,
on a scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock,
wi' his proud, independent stomach,
could ill agree;
so, row't his hurdies in a hammock,
an' owre the sea.
he ne'er was gien to great misguidin,
yet coin his pouches wad na bide in;
wi' him it ne'er was under hiding;
he dealt it free:
the muse was a' that he took pride in,
that's owre the sea.
jamaica bodies, use him weel,
an' hap him in cozie biel:
ye'll find him aye a dainty chiel,
an' fou o' glee:
he wad na wrang'd the vera deil,
that's owre the sea.
farewell, my rhyme-composing billie!
your native soil was right ill-willie;
but may ye flourish like a lily,
now bonilie!
i'll toast you in my hindmost gillie,
tho' owre the sea!