But wad for Johnny’s kisses,
Luik upon as blisses,
Scrimp meals, caff beds, and dairns.
Wour lads, like their deddy,
To fight the French are ready,
But gie’s a peace that’s steady,
And breed cheap as lang syne;
May a’ the press gangs perish,
Each lass her laddy cherish:
Lang may the Coal Trade flourish