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Y bonny man, the warld, it's true,
It's just a place to warstle through,
the best that we'll can do
Is mak the best o't.
There's rowth o' wrang, I'm free to say:
An' life a rough an' land'art play
An' food's anither name for clart;
Aweel, I cannae mend your cart:
It's that or naethin'.
A feck o' folk frae first to last
Have through this queer experience passed;
But twa-three ithers, east an' wast,
Whaur braid the briery muirs expand,
An' there the canty wanderer fand
Trout in the burn grow great as herr'n;
The muircock an' the barefit bairn
Sic-like the howes o' life to some:
Green loans whaur they ne'er fash their
But mark the muckle winds that come,
Soopin' an' cool.
Or hear the powrin' burnie drum
The evil wi' the guid they tak;
An' up the rude, unbieldy track
What you would like's a palace ha',
Weel, than, ye cannae hae't: that's a'
An' since at life ye've ta'en the grue,
An' shüne we'll hear the last o' you -
The shoon ye coft, the life ye lead, Ithers will heir when aince ye're deid; They'll heir your tasteless bite o' breid, An' find it sappy;
They'll to your dulefü' house succeed, An' there be happy.
As whan a glum an' fractious wean
The ither bairns a' fa' to play'n',
THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL
T's strange that God should fash to frame
The yearth and lift sae hie,
An' clean forget to explain the same
They gutsy, donnered ither folk,
Their weird they weel may dree;
But why present a pig in a poke
They ither folk their parritch eat
But the mind is no to be wyled wi' meat
They ither folk, they court their joes
At gloamin' on the lea;
But they're made of a commoner clay, I
Than a gentleman like me.