Let the learn’d decide when they convene,
What spell was him an’ the breeks between;
For frae that day forth he was nae mair seen,
An’ sair miss’d was Aiken-drum.
He was heard by a herd gaun by the Thrieve,
Crying, “Lang, lang now may I greet an’ grieve;
For alas! I hae gotten baith fee an’ leave,
O luckless Aiken-drum!”
Awa! ye wrangling sceptic tribe,
Wi’ your pro’s an’ your con’s wad ye decide