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The Song Book
CLXXXIV
AWA, WHIGS, AWA! |
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Our sad decay in kirk and state,
Surpasses my descriving ; The whigs came o'er us like a blight,
And we have done wi' thriving.
Awa, whigs awa, &c. Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust, Deil blind them wi' the stoure o't, And write their names in his black book, Who gave the whigs the power o't.
The last verse by Burns. |
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