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IS THERE FOR HONEST POVERTY
Is there for honest poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that an' a' that,
Our toils obscure, an' a' that:
The rank is but the guinea's stamp;
The man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that,
CONTENTED WI' LITTLE ·
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' guid swats and an auld Scottish sang.
I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought:
But man is a soger, and life is a faught;
My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch daur touch.
A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a';
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the Deil ever thinks o' the road he has passed?
Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way,
Be't to me, be 't frae me, e'en let the jade gae;
Come ease, or come travail, come pleasure or pain,
My warst word is, "Welcome, and welcome again!"
LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS
CHORUS.-Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks?
Wilt thou be my dearie, O?
A RED, RED ROSE
O my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my luve is like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!
LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER
Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave me:
I said there was naething I hated like men;
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me,
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me!
He spak o' the darts in my bonie black een,
And vowed for my love he was dyin:
I said he might die when he liket for Jean;
The Lord forgie me for lyin, for lyin,
The Lord forgie me for lyin!
A weel-stocket mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
I never loot on that I kenned it or cared;
But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers,
But thought I might hae waur offers
But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less-
The Deil tak his taste to gae near her!-
He up the Gate Slack to my black cousin Bess:
Guess ye how, the jad, I could bear her, could bear her!
Guess ye how, the jad, I could bear her!
But a' the niest week as I petted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there:
I glowered as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowered as I'd seen a warlock.
But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neebours might say I was saucy:
My wooer he capered as he'd been in drink,
And vowed I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
And vowed I was his dear lassie.
I spiered for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recovered her hearin,
And how her new shoon fit her auld shachled feet-
But, heavens, how he fell a swearin, a swearin!
But, heavens, how he fell a swearin!
He begged, for Gudesake, I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;
So, e'en to preserve the poor body in life,
I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow,
I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
O, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST
O, wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee;
Or did misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.