Yet we a’ got beaten that New-Year’s Day,
For the ladies’ friends stood true, sirs.
Chorus—Oh! the barrin’ o’ oor door, &c.
Sir Robert looked blue when he heard o’ the vote,
And Turner he tore his hair, sirs;
He forgot there wasna muckle to tear,
Sae deep was his despair, sirs,
Chorus—Aboot the barrin’ o’ oor door, &c.
And Andrew Wood fell into the airms
O’ twa o’ his “five fair sons,” sirs;