“ The respect they ha’e for us is better than brother’s,
⁠I’m fifty years Shepherd, you’re fifty a King.
My crook I will dress in the relies o’ summer,
⁠My faithfu’ auld Colly shall hail that blithe morn,
And to my wee cabin I’ll welcome each comer,
⁠The friend that hath plenty, and stranger forlorn;
You’ll sure do the same tho’ nobody broach it,
⁠You’ve plenty of beef, butter, lobsters, and ling,
And rowth o’ Musicians to strike up the crotchet,
⁠I’m fifty years Shepherd, you’re fifty a King. ”

“ A ship without ever a sail,
⁠May be driven the Lord knows whither,
It’s just such another sad want,
⁠As a shoemaker wanting his leather.
A man that has got but one leg,
⁠Will make but a very bad runner ”

“ Me wi’ my sheep, Sire, and you wi’ your subjects,
⁠On that festive day we’ll both gladly rejoice;
Our twa hoary heads will be fu’ o’ new projects,
⁠To please the leal vassals that made us their choice! ”