Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

239
He's come o' a race that has long been renown'd
Thro' Scotland for pith an' for pleasure ;
An' where is the Scotchman that ever disown'd
To drink barley bree in full measure, full measure,
To drink barley bree in full measure.
John Barleycorn's meat, an' John Barleycorn's drink,
His bree did our forefathers nourish.
An' we, their descendants, care naething for clink,
If Johnnie's at han' us to cherish, to cherish.
If Johnnie's at han' us to cherisli.
On brandy some waste baith their health an' their gear,
On Frenchified wines some delight in.
And some condescend to the trash ginger-beer,
The merits o' barley bree slighting, bree slighting,
The merits o' barley bree slighting.
But what are their brandies compared to the dew
Distill'd frae the barley we prize, sirs ?
Or where lies the harm in a Scot being fu' ?
If Scotland the beverage supialies, sirs, supplies, sirs,
If Scotland the beverage supplies, sirs.
Then gi'e me at e'en, and I'll ask for nae mair,
Atween John-o'-Groats and auld Dover,
The chiels wha wi' pleasure my bottle will share,
An' pledge me in cups that run over, nui over.
An' pledge me in cups that run over.
We'll drink to the land that exults in the rose,
We'll drink to the land o' the thistle.
Nor will we forget where the sweet shamrock grows.
As long's we can moisten oxxr Avhistle, oiir whistle,
As long's we can moisten our whistle.