A Tippling Ballad

Robert Burns

When Princes and Prelates, 
And hot-headed zealots, 
A'Europe had set in a low, a low, 
The poor man lies down, 
Nor envies a crown, 
And comforts himself as he dow, as he dow, 
And comforts himself as he dow. 

The black-headed eagle, 
As keen as a beagle, 
He hunted o'er height and o'er howe, 
In the braes o' Gemappe, 
He fell in a trap, 
E'en let him come out as he dow, dow, dow, 
E'en let him come out as he dow. 

But truce with commotions, 
And new-fangled notions, 
A bumper, I trust you'll allow; 
Here's George our good king, 
And Charlotte his queen, 
And lang may they ring as they dow, dow, dow, 
And lang may they ring as they dow.

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