SONG. SCOTCH NICK; OR OLD HARRY's PLAIN CONFESSION

Farewell to Scotland's barren ground; A better country I have found, Where wealth and customers abound, For "Wha wants me?"

Was ever such a lucky Scot! So snug a birth—so rich a lot! I'll sell the good things I have got, Crying, "Wha wants me?"

No guilty thoughts disturb my mind, I left my conscience safe behind! And all my happiness I find In "Wha wants me?"

You envious Scotchmen all, behold! You say I have my country sold; Then see what heaps of shining gold, For "Wha wants me?"

The Test Act might have been repeal'd, And all your wide divisions heal'd, Had you but properly appeal'd To "Wha wants me?"

To any measure I'll agree— Let tyrants rule, or men be free; Let this my happy freedom be, Crying "Wha wants me?"

It Paine were chose to rule the land, And he should take me by the hand; I would submit to his command, Crying "Wha wants me?"

Then once for all, I let you know, Let kings or people rule below; If I'm in office, round I'll go, Crying "Wha wants me?"