The Blue and the Yellow

If e'er you would be a brave fellow, young man,
Beware of the Blue and the Yellow, young man ;
If ye wud be strang,
And wish to write lang,
Come join wi' the lads that get mellow, young man.
Like the crack o' a squib that has fa'en on, young man,
Compared wi' the roar o' a cannon, young man,
So is the Whig's blow
To the pith that's below
The beard o' auld Geordie Buchanan, f young man.

I heard a bit bird in the braken, young man,
It sang till the Whigs were a' quaking, young man,
And ay the sad lay
Was, Alack for the day !
For the Blue and the Yellow's forsaken, young man.

The day is arriv'd that's nae joking, young man ;
'Tis vain to be murmuring and mocking, young man :
A Whig may be leal,
But he'll never fight weel,
As lang as he dadds wi' a docken, young man.

O wha wadna laugh at their capers, young man ?
Like auld maidens, fash'd wi' the vapours, young man,
We have turned them adrift
To their very last shift,
That's — -puffing the Radical Papers, young man.
If ye wad hear tell o' their pingle, young man,
Gae list the wee bird in the dingle, young man ;
Its note o' despair,
"Is sae loud in the air,
That the windows of heaven play jingle, young man.

Ill give you a toast of the auldest, young man ;
The loyal head ne'er was the cauldest, young man ;
" Our King and his Throne,
Be his glory our own,"

And the last of his days aye the bauldest, young man. —
But as for the loun that wad hector, young man,
And pit us at odds wi' a lecture, young man,
May he dance cutty-mun,
Wi' his neb to the sun,
And his doup to the General Director, young man.