Song Of The Edinburgh Academician
If ony here has got an ear,
He'd better tak- a haud o- me,
Or I'll begin, wi- roarin- din,
To cheer our old Academy.
Dear old Academy,
Queer old Academy,
A merry lot we were, I wot,
When at the old Academy.
There's some may think me crouse wi- drink,
And some may think it mad o- me,
But ither some will gladly come
And cheer our old Academy.
Some set their hopes on Kings and Popes,
But, o- the sons of Adam, he
Was first, without the smallest doubt,
That built the first Academy.
Let Pedants seek for scraps of Greek,
Their lingo to Macadamize;
Gie me the sense, without pretence,
That comes o- Scots Academies.
Let scholars all, both grit and small,
Of Learning mourn the sad demise;
That's as they think, but we will drink
Good luck to Scots Academies.
James Clerk Maxwell
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