O May, Thy Morn
O May, thy morn was ne’er sae sweet,
As the mirk night o’ December;
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber;
And dear was she I dare na name,
But I will aye remember.
And here’s to them, that, like oursel,
Can push about the jorum!
And here’s to them that wish us weel,
May a’ that’s guid watch o’er them!
And here’s to them we dare na tell,
The dearest o’ the quorum!