A Wee Drappie o’t

This life is a journey we all hae to gang,
And care is the burden we carry alang,
Though heavy be our burden and poverty our lot,
We’ll be happy a’thegither o’er a wee drappie o’t

O’er a wee drappie o’t, o’er a wee drappie o’t
We’ll be happy a’thegither o’er a wee drappie o’t

The trees are a’ stripped o’ their mantles sae green.
The leaves of the forest nae langer are seen,
For winter is here wi’ it’s cold icey coat,
And we’re all met thegither o’er a wee drappie o’t.

O’er a wee drappie o’t, o’er a wee drappie o’t
And we’re all met thegither o’er a wee drappie o’t.

Job in his lamentations said that man was made to mourn,
And there’s nae such thing as pleasures from the cradle to the urn,
But in his lamentations he surely had forgot
A’ the pleasure man enjoys o’er a wee drappie o’t

O’er a wee drappie o’t, o’er a wee drappie o’t
A’ the pleasure man enjoys o’er a wee drappie o’t

I first heard this sometimes participatory drinking song from the stage of Orchestra Hall in Chicago, during a benefit concert for the Old Town School of Folk Music. The singers - and drinkers- were Win Strache, one of the OTSFM founders, and the one, only and forever. Studs Terkel. At each "o't" (as in "a wee drop of IT, the pure" one or t'other or the both of them would take a drink. As the song went on, the pauses to drink were longer and longer. I do wonder what folks who only heard it broadcast over the radio were thinking; they were taking the singing and drinking equally seriously, they were.

Studs Terkel died today at 96, after a life filled with ideas, people, issues and music. I raise a wee drappie o't to the glorious life of a splendid man.