This life is a journey we a' hae tae gang,
And care is the burdenwe carry alang;
Though heavy be our burden and poverty our lot,
We'll be happy a'-the-gither, ower a wee drappie o't
Ower a wee drappie o't, ower a wee drappie o't,
We'll be happy a'-the-gither, ower a wee drappie o't.

The trees are a' stripped o' their mantles sae green,
The leaves o'the forest nae langer are seen,
For winter is here wi' its cauld icy coat,
And we're a' met here the gither ower a wee drappie o't.
Ower a wee drappie o't, ower a wee drappie o't,
And we're a' met here the gither ower a wee drappie o't.

Job in his lamentations said "Man was made tae mourn,
There's nae such thing as pleasure frae the cradle tae the urn."
But in his meditations Job surely had forgot
The pleasure man enjoys ower a wee drappie o't.
Ower a wee drappie o't, ower a wee drappie o't,
The pleasure man enjoys ower a wee drappie o't.

Song Notes: Scotland's other national love. Bob's one departure from his main theme is one of the Nineteenth Century's best convivial songs. This rendition drops the verse which made Robert Ford regard it as a temperance song.

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