Our thrissles flourish’d fresh and fair,
\nAnd bonnie bloom’d our roses;
\nBut Whigs cam like a frost in June,
\nAn wither’d a\u2019 our posies.
\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
CHORUS
\nAwa, Whigs, awa!
\nAwa, Whigs, awa!
\nYe’re but a pack o traitor louns,
\nYe’ll do nae guid at a’.
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our ancient crowns fa’n in the dust;
\nDeil blin’ them wi the stoure o’t,
\nAn write their names in the black beuk
\nWha gae the Whigs the power o’t!
\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our sad decay in church and state
\nSurpasses my descriving:
\nThe Whigs cam o’er us for a curse,
\nAn we hae done wi thriving.
\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Grim Vengeance lang has taen a nap,
\nBut we may see him waukin:
\nGude help the day when Royal heads
\nAre hunted like a maukin!
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Our thrissles flourish’d fresh and fair, And bonnie bloom’d our roses; But Whigs cam like a frost in June, An wither’d a\u2019 our posies. CHORUS Awa, Whigs, awa! Awa, Whigs, awa! Ye’re but a pack o traitor louns, Ye’ll do nae guid at a’. Our ancient crowns fa’n in the dust; Deil blin’ them wi … <\/p>\n