Chorus.-Awa' Whigs, awa'! Awa' Whigs, awa'! Ye're but a pack o'traitor louns, Ye'll do naegude at a'. Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair, And boniebloom'd our roses; But Whigs cam' like a frost in June, An' wither'd a'our posies. Awa' Whigs, &c. Our ancient crown's fa'en in the dust- Deilblin'them wi' the stoureo't! An' write

Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass, Whare are you gaun, my hinnie? She answered me right saucilie, "An errand for my minnie." O whare live ye, my bonie lass, O whare live ye, my hinnie? "By yonburnside, ginye maunken, In a wee house wi' my minnie." But I foorup the glen at e'en. To

O sing a new song to the Lord, Make, all and every one, A joyful noise, even for the King His restoration. The sons of Belial in the land Did set their heads together; Come, let us sweep them off, said they, Like ano'erflowing river. They set their heads together, I say, They settheir heads