This is the last night oâ€™ this year, lads,
Â Â Let come in the next whateâ€™er may;
He thatâ€™s eydent and honest can welcome
Â Â The morning oâ€™ ilk New-yearâ€™s-day.
â€™Tis only the knave needs be gloomy,
Â Â When thinking on what he has done;
But we blythely will sing in the morning,
Â Â And dance by the light oâ€™ the moon.
Thereâ€™s muckle in this world to grieve usâ€”
Â Â I doutna weâ€™ve aâ€™ had our shareâ€”
But to warsle anâ€™ win is a pleasure,
Â Â And what can a mortal do mair?
The mile-stanes oâ€™ life, as we journey,
Â Â Are lang weary twalmonths atween;
Let us rest anâ€™ look back, anâ€™ makâ€™ merry,
Â Â When we meet wiâ€™ an honest auld frienâ€™.
Then, Johnnie,* come fill us a jorum,
Â Â And Gib he will sing us a sang,
That will keep frienâ€™ship warm in our bosoms
Â Â To anither mile-stane, as we gang.