That's owre the sea!

Auld cantie Kyle may weepers wear, [cheerful, mourning bands]
An' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear: [salt]
'Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear,
In flinders flee; [fragments]
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-- [jilt]
Ill may she be!
So took a berth afore the mast,
An' owre the sea.

To tremble under Fortune's cummock [cudgel]
On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock, [meal and water]
Wi' his proud independent stomach,
Could ill agree;
So row't his hurdies in a hammock, [rolled, buttocks]
An' owre the sea.

He ne'er was gi'en to great misguidin',
Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in; [pockets would]
Wi' him it ne'er was under hidin',
He dealt it free:
The Muse was a' that he took pride in,
That's owre the sea.