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o say men are villains a'; The real harden'd wicked, Wha hae nae check but human law, Are to a few restricked; But och! mankind are unco weak, [extremely] An' little to be trusted; If Self the wavering balance shake, It's rarely right adjusted! Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife. Their fate we shouldna censure; For still th' important end of life They equally may answer. A man may hae an honest heart, Tho' poortith hourly stare him; [poverty] A man may tak a neibor's part, Yet hae nae cash to spare him. Aye free, aff han', your story tell, When wi' a bosom crony; But still keep something to yoursel Ye scarcely tell to ony. Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can Frae critical dissection; But keek thro' ev'ry other man [pry] Wi' sharpen'd sly inspection. The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love, [flame] Luxuriantly indulge it; But never tempt th' illicit rove, [attempt, roving] Tho' naething should divulge it: I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing; But och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling! To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her; And gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justified by honour; Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train-attendant; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent. The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; [hold] But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that aye be your border: Its slightest touches, instant pause-- Debar a' side pretences; And resolutely keep its laws, Uncaring consequences. The great Creator to revere Must sure become the creature; But still the preaching cant forbear, And ev'n the rigid feature: Yet ne'er with wits profane to range Be complaisance extended; An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended. When ranting round in Pleasure's ring, [frolicking] Religion may be blinded; Or, if she gie a random sting, It may be little minded; But when on life we're tempest-driv'n-- A conscience but a canker-- A corre
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