Gars a’ the trades gang danderin’ hame.
Now, mony a club, jocose and free,
Gi’e a’ to merriment and glee;
Wi’ sang and glass they fley the power
O’ care, that wad harass the hour.
* * * *
Chief, O Cape! we crave thy aid,
To get our cares and poortith laid.
Sincerity and genius true,
O’ knights have ever been the due.