Health to our well-lo'ed Hielan Chief!
Health, ay sour'd by care or grief:
Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sibyl leaf,
This natal morn,
I see thy life is stuff o' prief,
Scarce quite half-worn: 

All hail, all hail, auld birkie!  Lord be near ye,
And then the De'il, he daurna steer ye:
Your friends ay love, your faes ay fear ye,
For me, shame fa' me,
If neist my heart I dinna wear ye,
While BURNS they ca' me.