This text comes from The Bennachie Budget, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
When Friendship filled her siller tass,
For laird or cottar, lad or lass,
Langsyne naebody dared surpass
A wee drap i’ their e’e;
The eummer warmed the caudle cup,
The hame-come foamed a couthy sup,
Whaur death had laid his cauldrife grup,
They drank the kind dirgee.
As thro’ the worm the wimplin’ rill
Sac gently trinkles frae the still,
What heart could dread sae muckle ill
Could dreip frae fount sae sma’.
The rill has swall’d intil a spate,
That pours its torrents air’ an’ late,
An’ sweeps to Ruin bauld an’ blate
Beyond remeid o’ law.
For men, wi’ demon's strength an’ tongue,
Now beat their wives an’ ban their young,
Syne leave them cow’rin’, cauld, an’ clung,
An’ birl the Barley-bree;
Their wives for meat an’ claes naun drudge,
An’ leave their bairns to rake the sludge,
But lazy sots refuse to mudge
While blest wi’ ae bawbee,
Then, Scotland’s sons, the fecht maintain,
Till truth unlink the drunkard’s chain,
An’ voters send to Stephen’s fane,
Bauld meinbers true an’ leal;
Thore let them bar despotic plan,
Nor laws devise for class or clan,
Nor statesmen prop wi’ cup an’ can,
That blight the commonweal.
While swinish drunkards, roll in slime,
An’ stain our land wi’ blood an’ crime,
While poison, wasting manhood’s prime,
Frae fat an’ still flows free;
Let Temp’rance all lier sons combine,
While poison's streams turn men to swine,
An’, firm, resolve through aid Divine,
To stap the flood’s Wall-e’e!