Let them ance get ’im into their taings weel,
Nae fear but they’ll give ’im his whaings weel;
And to Hazlett’s[3] pond bring ’im,
And there in chains hing ’im;
What a seet for the Bonny Geatsiders!
Now, marrows, to shew we’re a’ loyal,
And that, wi’ the King and Blood Royal,
We’ll a’ soom or sink,
Quairts a piece let us drink,
To the brave and the Bonny Geatsiders.