Willie brewed a keg of kola, An' Tam and Johnnie cam to pree; Mair temperance lads ye couldna fin' Had ye searched through a' Christendee. CHORUS: For they wer'na fou, they couldna be, The thing lay on their stomachs cauld; The nicht sped on wi' little glee, But for fresh kola aye they bawled. They took it sparkling, took it still, At each fresh swig they cracked & sang; And tho' each boldly drank his fill, They felt they couldna keep it lang. The glories of the temperance cause They sang and praised wi' unctuous zeal, They'd hae the makin' o' the laws, And send distillers to the deil. They vowed they'd put a' drinkin' doun, And purify the land frae beer, And whisky banish frae the toun, And usher in the golden year. But as the nicht grew on apace, And gas and water filled their wames, They finished up wi' solemn grace, And sauntered sadly to their hames. FINAL: For they wer'na fou, they couldna be, An' thochts lay heavy on each soul, The nicht had sped wi' little glee, And nae mair kola could they thole.
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