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I sing the new sett o' the Burgh,
The auld ane will no do ava;
My freen's o' the Council, good morrow!
I doubt ye maun now sing but sma'!
For now ye maun certainly pack
Up your alls, an' be trampin' awa,
De'il care tho' ye never come back,
We'll never miss ane o' you a'!
Provost an' Baillies an' a',
Councillors baith ane an' a'!
I scarcely wad gi'e a Scots plack
For Provost an' Baillies an' a'!
Do ye mind on the grand Manifesto,
Ye published some tomins ago?
It was all but humbugging , for presto!
Ye all changed your tune, as ye know.
It was all but the fear o' the moment
That forced you to tak' sic a measure,
You spoke very smoothly, an' so meant
To make up the loss o' the treasure.
Provost an' Baillies an' a'!
Confessin', retractin', an' a'!
O! where will you find so much pleasure,
As oft you've had up in the Ha'?
O! then were the days o' the fun,
The story, the pun, an' the joke;
The laughter went off like a gun,
When Provost and Baillies but spoke!
But now there is naething but dourness,
An' sichin' an' sabbin' an' a'!
The very wine's turnin' to sourness,
An' sure they'll be blabbin' an' a'!
Blebbin' and blabbin' an' a,
Sichin' an' sabbin' an' a'!
For raff there is naething but poorness,
An' toomness sits yap I' your mau'!
But now it is time to be dune,
Tho' I ha'ena yet mentioned them a';
Yet some winna think it owre soon,
Wha coonted maybe on a claw!
But just to haud doun ony din,
Some flees we'se lat stick to the wa';
Whan the folks are a' lattin in,
They'll lat out stories ane an' a'!
Provost an' Baillies an' a'.
Councillors baith great an' sma'!
The auld maun gang out an' the new come in,
So hurrah! hurrah!! hurrah!!!
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