1.
O, wha will to Saint Stephen's House,
To do our errands there, man?
O, wha will to Saint Stephen's House,
O' th' merry lads of Ayr, man?
Or will ye send a man o' law?
Or will ye send a sodger?
Or him wha led o'er Scotland a'
The meikle Ursa-Major?
2.
Come, will ye court a noble lord,
Or buy a score o' lairds, man?
For Worth and Honour pawn their word,
Their vote shall be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane gies them wine,
Anither gies them clatter;
Annbank, wha guess'd the ladies taste,
He gies a Fête Champetre.
3.
When Love and Beauty heard the news
The gay green-woods amang, man,
Where, gathering flowers and busking bowers,
They heard the blackbird's sang, man;
A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss,
Sir Politics to fetter:
As theirs alone the patent bliss
To hold a Fête Champetre.
4.
Then mounted Mirth on gleesome wing,
O'er hill and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and shaw she knew, man.
She summon'd every social sprite,
That sports by wood or water,
On th' bonie banks of Ayr to meet
And keep this Fête Champetre.
5.
Cauld Boreas wi' his boisterous crew
Were bound to stakes like kye, man;
And Cynthia's car, o' silver fu',
Clamb up the starry sky, man:
Reflected beams dwell in the streams,
Or down the current shatter;
The western breeze steals through the trees
To view this Fête Champetre.
6.
How many a robe sae gaily floats,
What sparkling jewels glance, man,
To Harmony's enchanting notes,
As moves the mazy dance, man!
The echoing wood, the winding flood
Like Paradise did glitter,
When angels met at Adam's yett
To hold their Fête Champetre.
7.
When Politics came there to mix
And make his ether-stane, man,
He circled round the magic ground,
But entrance found he nane, man:
He blush'd for shame, he quat his name,
Forswore it every letter,
Wi' humble prayer to join and share
This festive Fête Champetre.

O, who will to Saint Stephen's House,
To do our errands there, man?
O, who will to Saint Stephen's House,
Of the merry lads of Ayr, man?
Or will you send a man of law?
Or will you send a soldier?
Or him who led over Scotland all
The big Ursa-Major?

Come, will you court a noble lord,
Or buy a score of lairds (land owner), man?
For Worth and Honour pawn their word,
Their vote shall be Glencaird's, man.
One gives them coin, one gives them wine,
Another gives them talk;
Annbank, who guessed the ladies taste,
He gives a Fête Champetre.

When Love and Beauty heard the news
The gay green-woods among, man,
Where, gathering flowers and dressing bowers,
They heard the blackbird's song, man;
A vow, they sealed it with a kiss,
Sir Politics to fetter:
As theirs alone the patent bliss
To hold a Fête Champetre.

Then mounted Mirth on gleesome wing,
Over hill and dale she flew, man;
Each winding stream, each crystal spring,
Each glen and wood she knew, man.
She summoned every social sprite,
That sports by wood or water,
On the lovely banks of Ayr to meet
And keep this Fête Champetre.

Cold Boreas (North Wind) with his boisterous crew
Were bound to stakes like cattle, man;
And Cynthia's car, of silver full,
Climbed up the starry sky, man:
Reflected beams dwell in the streams,
Or down the current shatter;
The western breeze steals through the trees
To view this Fête Champetre.

How many a robe so gaily floats,
What sparkling jewels glance, man,
To Harmony's enchanting notes,
As moves the mazy (maze like) dance, man!
The echoing wood, the winding flood
Like Paradise did glitter,
When angels met at Adam's gate
To hold their Fête Champetre.

When Politics came there to mix
And make his adder-stone, man,
He circled round the magic ground,
But entrance found he none, man:
He blushed for shame, he quit (left) his name,
Foreswore it every letter,
With humble prayer to join and share
This festive Fête Champetre.