O Willie brew’d a peck o’ maut, And Rob and Allen cam to see; Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night, Ye wadna found in Christendie. Chorus.—We are na fou, we’re nae that fou, But just a drappie in our ee; The cock may craw, the day may daw And aye we’ll taste the barley bree. Here are we met, three merry boys, Three merry boys I trow are we; And mony a night we’ve merry been, And mony mae we hope to be! We are na fou, &c. It is the moon, I ken her horn, That’s blinkin’ in the lift sae hie; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, But, by my sooth, she’ll wait a wee! We are na fou, &c. Wha first shall rise to gang awa, A cuckold, coward loun is he! Wha first beside his chair shall fa’, He is the King amang us three. We are na fou, &c. [Footnote 1: Willie is Nicol, Allan is Masterton the writing— master. The scene is between Moffat and the head of the Loch of the Lowes. Date, August—September, 1789.—Lang.]