“Dam’d guid, Geordie!  Fill up your glass.  That deserves a richt guid dram!” cried Black Jock, as he reached across the table and poured a bumper for Geordie.  “Wha’s gaun to sing next?  Come on, chaps; let us mak’ a nicht o’t!”

“Hear, hear,” said Geordie.  “I’m just feelin’ in gran’ fettle for a nicht.  Tammas Fairly will gie’s a bit verse maybe.  He can sing a fair guid song.”

“Me sing!” exclaimed Tam.  “Gae awa’!  Ye ken fine I canna sing like you, Geordie,” and there was a hint of assumed bashfulness in Tam’s voice as he spoke.

“Come on, Tam.  There’s to be nae jookin’ oot o’ it.  It’s to be a sang roon’ aboot, so you micht as weel begin noo, an’ get your turn by.”

“Ay, come on,” chimed in Walker.  “Let us enjoy oorsel’ the nicht, when we are in a mood for it.  Guid kens when we may ever spend a nicht thegither again.  Come on, Tam, get up!”

“Oh, weel,” said Tam with bashful reluctance, “I’ll do my best,” and clearing his throat, Tam sang.

“Hear, hear!” roared Black Jock.  “That deserves a bumper too, Tammas.  Fill up your glass.  An honest dram’s afore a’ the simperin’ Judies that ever held up their gabs to be kissed!” and filling another round, they drank, and roared, and cried their appreciation.

The fun waxed fast and furious, as song after song was sung, which sometimes were capped by a rough story or a questionable joke from someone in the company.

“But you havena gi’en us a sang yoursel’!” observed Charlie, turning to Black Jock, after most of the company had obliged with an effort.

“No, I havena gi’en you a sang,” he replied with a coarse laugh, “but I hae paid for a’ the drinks, an’ I suppose that’ll please the maist o’ you better than a dizzen sangs frae me.”

“Quite true,” said Geordie.  “You’re a gentleman, an’ I never met a better.  I only hope we’ll hae the pleesure o’ meetin’ you here again afore lang.  It’s been yin o’ the best nichts I hae spent for a lang time.”

“That’s true, Geordie,” said Charlie.  “He has gi’en us yin o’ the best nichts I hae ever spent.  In fact I never min’ o’ haein’ a better, an’ to celebrate it, if nane of you hae ony objections, I’ll sing anither sang.”

“Hear, hear,” cried Walker heartily.  “Order for the sang,” and he tapped the table loudly with a bottle, as he called for quietness amid the din.

“Order for the sang, boys!” bawled Geordie, “Charlie is gaun to favor the company,” and as the noise immediately ceased, Charlie sang a song about the fascinating women.

“That’s a guid yin, Charlie,” roared Walker, thumping the table as he roared.  “I hae had a lang experience o’ weemin’ bodies,” and he winked across to Geordie as he spoke, “an’ I can say they are rale blood-suckers.  They’re like whisky, gran’ at the time, but you sing sorry next day, an’ fin’ oot what a fool you hae been.  They hing on to you like leeches, an’ mak’ a mess o’ things at the en’.  Though you had a face like a crocodile as long as you had plenty of cash, they’d lick your feet; when your money’s done, they’re awa’ like swallows at the first nip o’ autumn frost!”