The Kirk Of Scotlands Alarm
and your friends they dare grant you nae mair,
irvine side! and your friends they dare grant you nae mair.
muirnd jock! muirnd jock, when the lord makes a rock,
to crush on-sense for her sins;
if ill-manners were wit, there's no mortal so fit
to found the poor doctor at ance,
muirnd jock! to found the poor doctor at ance.
andro gowk! andro gowk, ye may she book,
an' the book nought the waur, let me tell ye;
tho' ye're rich, an' look big, yet, y by hat an' wig,
an' ye'll hae a calf's—had o' sma' value,
andro gowk! ye'
The Kirk Of Scotlands Alarm(6/8)