Be't whisky gill, or penny wheep, [small beer]
Or ony stronger potion,
It never fails, on drinkin' deep,
To kittle up our notion [tickle]
By night or day.

The lads an' lasses, blythely bent
To mind baith saul an' body,
Sit round the table, weel content,
An' steer about the toddy. [stir]
On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk, [look]
They're makin observations;
While some are cosy i' the neuk, [corner]
An' formin' assignations
To meet some day.

But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts, [sounds]
Till a' the hills are rairin', [roaring]
An' echoes back return the shouts;
Black Russel is na sparin';
His piercing words, like Highlan' swords,
Divide the joints an' marrow;
His talk o' Hell, where devils dwell,
Our very 'sauls does harrow'
Wi' fright that day!

A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit,
Fill'd fou o' lowin' brunstane, [full, flaming brimstone]
Whase ragin' flame, an' scorchin' heat,
Wad melt the hardest whun-stane!