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Come give us a song, Montgomery cried |
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and lay your disputes all aside |
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What nonsense is't for folks to chide |
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for what`s been done before 'em |
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Let Whig and Tory all agree, |
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Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory |
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Whig and Tory all agree |
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to drop their Whigmigmorum |
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Let Whig and Tory all agree |
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to spend this night in mirth and glee |
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And cheerful sing along with me |
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the Reel of Tullochgorum |
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O Tullochgorum's my delight, |
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it gars us all in one unite |
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And ony sumph that keeps up spite, |
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in conscience, I abhor him |
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Blythe and merry we'll be all, |
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blythe and merry, blythe and merry |
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Blythe and merry we'll be all, |
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and make a cheerfull quorum |
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Blythe and merry we'll be all, |
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as lang as we have a breath to draw |
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And dance till we be like to fall, |
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the Reel of Tullochgorum |
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Let worldly worms their minds oppress, |
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with fears or want and double cess |
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And sullen sots themselves distress |
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with keeping up decorum |
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Shall we so sour and sulky sit? |
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Sour and sulky, sour and sulky |
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Sour and sulky shall we sit, |
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like auld Philosophorum? |
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Shall we so sour and sulky sit, |
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with neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit |
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Nor ever rise to shake a fit |
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to the Reel of Tullochgorum? |
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May choicest blessings all attend |
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each honest open-hearted friend |
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And calm and quiet be his end, |
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and all that's good watch o'er him |
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May peace and plenty be his lot, |
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peace and plenty, peace and plenty |
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Peace and plenty be his lot |
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and dainties a great store o' them |
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May peace and plenty be his lot, |
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unstain'd by any vicious spot |
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And may he never want a groat, |
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that's fond of Tullochgorum |
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But for the discontented fool, |
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who loves to be oppression's tool |
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May envy gnaw his rotten soul |
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and discontent devour him! |
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May dool and sorrow be his chance, |
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dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow |
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Dool and sorrow be his chance, |
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and honest souls abhor him |
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May dool and sorrow be his chance |
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and all the ills that come from France |
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Whoever he be that would not dance |
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the Reel of Tullochgorum |
