on a scotch bard, gone to the west indies

　　a' ye wha live by sowps o' drink,

　　a' ye wha live by crambo-clink,

　　a' ye wha live and never think,

　　come, mourn wi' me!

　　our billie 's gien us a' a jink,

　　an' owre the sea!

　　lament him a' ye rantin core,

　　wha dearly like a random splore;

　　nae mair he'll join the merry roar;

　　in social key;

　　for now he's taen anither shore.

　　an' owre the sea!

　　the bonie lasses weel may wiss him,

　　and in their dear petitions place him:

　　the widows, wives, an' a' may bless him

　　wi' tearfu' e'e;

　　for weel i wat they'll sairly miss him

　　that's owre the sea!

　　o fortune, they hae room to grumble!

　　hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle,

　　wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble,

　　'twad been nae plea;

　　but he was gleg as ony wumble,

　　that's owre the sea!

　　auld, cantie kyle may weepers wear,

　　an' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear;

　　'twill mak her poor auld heart, i fear,

　　in flinders flee:

　　he was her laureat mony a year,

　　that's owre the sea!

　　he saw misfortune's cauld nor-west

　　lang mustering up a bitter blast;

　　a jillet brak his heart at last,

　　ill may she be!

　　so, took a berth afore the mast,

　　an' owre the sea.

　　to tremble under fortune's cummock,

　　on a scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock,

　　wi' his proud, independent stomach,

　　could ill agree;

　　so, row't his hurdies in a hammock,

　　an' owre the sea.

　　he ne'er was gien to great misguidin,

　　yet coin his pouches wad na bide in;

　　wi' him it ne'er was under hiding;

　　he dealt it free:

　　the muse was a' that he took pride in,

　　that's owre the sea.

　　jamaica bodies, use him weel,

　　an' hap him in cozie biel:

　　ye'll find him aye a dainty chiel,

　　an' fou o' glee:

　　he wad na wrang'd the vera deil,

　　that's owre the sea.

　　farewell, my rhyme-composing billie!

　　your native soil was right ill-willie;

　　but may ye flourish like a lily,

　　now bonilie!

　　i'll toast you in my hindmost gillie,

　　tho' owre the sea!