may desolation's lang-teeth'd harrow,

nine miles an hour,

rake them, like sodom and gomorrah,

in brunstane stour.

but for thy friends, and they are mony,

baith honest men, and lassies bonie,

may couthie fortune, kind and cannie,

in social glee,

wi' mornings blythe, and e'enings funny,

bless them and thee!

fareweel, auld birkie! lord be near ye,

and then the deil, he daurna steer ye:

your friends aye love, your faes aye fear ye;

for me, shame fa' me,

if neist my heart i dinna wear ye,

while burns they ca' me.