Arouse, my boys! exert your mettle,
To get auld Scotland back her kettle;
Or faith! I’ll wad my new pleugh-pettle,
Ye’ll see ‘t or lang,
She’ll teach you, wi’ a reekin whittle,
Anither sang.

This while she’s been in crankous mood,
Her lost Militia fir’d her bluid;
(Deil na they never mair do guid,
Play’d her that pliskie!)
An’ now she’s like to rin red-wad
About her whisky.

Excerpted from “The Author’s Earnest Cry And Prayer” by Robert Burns

Sláinte mhaith