For jig and solo—
Now he lies dum aneath the ground
An’ we maun follow.
“At brydels, whan his face we saw,
Lads, lasses, bridegroom, bride and a’
Smiling, cry’d, Johnie come awa’,
A welcome guest;
The enchanting chanter out he’d draw—
His pleas’d us best.
“The spring that ilk are lik’d he kend;