Alake for evermare and wae!

To wha shall I whan drouthie gae?

Dool, sturt and sorrow will me slae

Without remeid,

For hardship; and alake a day!

Since Sanny’s dead.

O’er buffet-stools, and hassocks tumble,

how he gart the jutters jumble,

And glowren fow both reel and rumble,

And clour their head.

Now they may gape, and girn, and grumble,

Since Sanny’s dead.

And how he gart the carles clatter,

And blirten fow their bowspreets batter,

Laughen to see them pitter-patter,

Naivel and bleed?

He was a deadly fae to water,

But now he’s dead.

Wha’ll jaw ale on my drouthy tongue,

To cool the heat of light and lung?

Wha’ll bid me when the kafll-bell’s rung,

To board me speed?

Wha’ll set me by the barrel-bung,

Since Sanny’’s dead?

Wha’ll set me dribbling be the tap;

While winking I begin to Napp,

Then lay me down and well me happ,

And binn my head?

I need na think to get ae drap,

Since Sanny’s dead.

Well did the master-cook and he,

With giff-gaff courtesie agree,

While tears as fast as kitchen-fee

Drapt frae his head.

Alake a day! though kind to me,

Yet now he’s dead.

It very muckle did me please,

To see him howk the Holland cheese:

I kend the clinking o’ his kies

In time of need.

Alake a day! though kind to me,

Yet now he’s dead.

He was as stout as was his steel,

And gen ye’ll trow he cou’d fu’ well

At wapenshaws tlie younkers dreill,

And bra’ly lead,

Baith to the field and frae the field,

But now he’s dead.

When first I heard the woeful knell,

And dool-ding o’s passing bell,

It made me yelp, and yeul, and yell,

And skirl and skreed.

To pantrie-men I bid farewell,

Since Sanny’s dead.

Fast is he bunn, baith head and feet,

And wrapped in a winnen sheet:

Now cou’d I sit me down and greet,

But what’s the need?

Shou’d I like a bell’d-wadder bleet,

Since Sanny’s dead?

The chiel came in his room, is bauld;

Sare be his shins, and’s kail ay cauld;

Which gars us ay pray for the auld,

With book and beid.

Now Lord hae mercy on his saul,

For now he’s dead.