The Poetry of Robert Burns Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson |
 | I. |
| 2. |
 | III. |
AWA', WHIGS, AWA' |
| IV. |
 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
64
AWA', WHIGS, AWA'
Chorus
Awa', Whigs, awa'!Awa', Whigs, awa'!
Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae guid at a'.
I
Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,And bonie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs cam like a frost in June,
An' wither'd a' our posies.
II
Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust—Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't,
An' write their names in his black beuk,
Wha gae the Whigs the power o't!
III
Our sad decay in church and stateSurpasses my descriving.
The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse,
And we hae done wi' thriving.
IV
Grim Vengeance lang has taen a nap,But we may see him waukin—
Gude help the day when Royal heads
Are hunted like a maukin!
65
Chorus
Awa', Whigs, awa'!Awa', Whigs, awa'!
Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae guid at a'.
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |