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The Jolly Beggars:

A Cantata Let me ryke up to dight that tear,

 An' go wi' me an' be my dear;

An' then your every care an' fear

May whistle owre the lave o't.

 I am a fiddler to my trade,

An' a' the tunes that e'er I played,

The sweetest still to wife or maid,

Was whistle owre the lave o't.

 At kirns an' weddins we'se be there,

An' O sae nicely's we will fare!

We'll bowse about till Daddie Care

Sing whistle owre the lave o't.

I am, &c.

 

Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke,

An' sun oursel's about the dyke;

An' at our leisure, when ye like,

We'll whistle owre the lave o't.

I am, &c.

 

But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms,

An' while I kittle hair on thairms,

Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harms,

May whistle owre the lave o't.

 I am, &c.