Gane is the day, and mirk’s the night,
     But we’ll ne’er stray for faut o’ light;
     Gude ale and bratdy’s stars and moon,
     And blue-red wine’s the risin’ sun.

     Chorus.—­Then gudewife, count the lawin,
     The lawin, the lawin,
     Then gudewife, count the lawin,
     And bring a coggie mair.

     There’s wealth and ease for gentlemen,
     And simple folk maun fecht and fen’;
     But here we’re a’ in ae accord,
     For ilka man that’s drunk’s a lord. 
     Then gudewife, &c.

     My coggie is a haly pool
     That heals the wounds o’ care and dool;
     And Pleasure is a wanton trout,
     An ye drink it a’, ye’ll find him out. 
     Then gudewife, &c.

Election Ballad

At the close of the contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790.

     Addressed to R. Graham, Esq. of Fintry.

     Fintry, my stay in wordly strife,
     Friend o’ my muse, friend o’ my life,
     Are ye as idle’s I am? 
     Come then, wi’ uncouth kintra fleg,
     O’er Pegasus I’ll fling my leg,
     And ye shall see me try him.

     But where shall I go rin a ride,
     That I may splatter nane beside? 
     I wad na be uncivil: 
     In manhood’s various paths and ways
     There’s aye some doytin’ body strays,
     And I ride like the devil.

     Thus I break aff wi’ a’ my birr,
     And down yon dark, deep alley spur,
     Where Theologics daunder: 
     Alas! curst wi’ eternal fogs,
     And damn’d in everlasting bogs,
     As sure’s the creed I’ll blunder!

     I’ll stain a band, or jaup a gown,
     Or rin my reckless, guilty crown
     Against the haly door: 
     Sair do I rue my luckless fate,
     When, as the Muse an’ Deil wad hae’t,
     I rade that road before.

     Suppose I take a spurt, and mix
     Amang the wilds o’ Politics—­
     Electors and elected,
     Where dogs at Court (sad sons of bitches!)
     Septennially a madness touches,
     Till all the land’s infected.

     All hail!  Drumlanrig’s haughty Grace,
     Discarded remnant of a race
     Once godlike—­great in story;
     Thy forbears’ virtues all contrasted,
     The very name of Douglas blasted,
     Thine that inverted glory!

     Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore,
     But thou hast superadded more,
     And sunk them in contempt;
     Follies and crimes have stain’d the name,
     But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim,
     From aught that’s good exempt!

     I’ll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears,
     Who left the all-important cares
     Of princes, and their darlings: 
     And, bent on winning borough touns,
     Came shaking hands wi’ wabster-loons,
     And kissing barefit carlins.