She loo'd Jock and hated Johnny;
Wi bit love between 'em ganging,
Sawney gied the lad a banging.
And now to Hibernia, the true land of harmony,
Tippling your whiskey to Shelim a gig,
Music, love, wine, and true friendship so charming ye,
Blood and ouns, boderoo, fizle my gig.
In England, no music is fit to be read,
Save one glorious tune that's in every one's head.
'Tis a tune we delight in,