In heaps of rustic rubbish lie.
And may my honest friend just now,
Without much quest be found by you;
May your old shoes, your staff and plaidy,
Be always for the journey ready:
And blithly may ilk neighbour greet you;
May cakes, and scones, and kibbocks meet you;
And may they weel ilk pocket cram,
And in your bottle slip a dram.
May your wee glass, your pipe and specks,