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Our mutchkins in our pouch, our pack
Upon our shoulders,
And we will hae a fine lang crack
Among the boulders.

We'll climb the hills o' Lorne and Skye,
We'll let nae piece o' rock gang by,
And syne we'll drink wet Laggan dry
With just a gill
Of mountain dew, the real Mackay,
To fend the chill.

Ye say ye're gettin' learned in law
And ken the words that break the jaw,
And teinds and processes and a',
Far wairse than Greek.
While at the gowff ye' ca' the ba'
Three times a week.