emble!
I see how folk live that hae riches;
But surely poor folk maun be wretches!

LUATH

They're no' sae wretched's ane wad think,
Though constantly on poortith's brink: [poverty's]
They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight,
The view o't gi'es them little fright.
Then chance and fortune are sae guided,
They're aye in less or mair provided;
An' though fatigued wi' close employment,
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment.
The dearest comfort o' their lives,
Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives; [growing]
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a' their fireside.
And whyles twalpenny-worth o' nappy [quart of ale]
Can mak the bodies unco happy; [wonderfully]
They lay aside their private cares
To mind the Kirk and State affairs:
They'll talk o' patronage and priests,
Wi' kindling fury in their breasts;
Or tell what new taxation's comin',
And ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. [wonder]
As bleak-faced Hallowmas returns
They get the jovial rantin' kirns, [harvest-homes]
When rural life o' every station.
Unite in common recreation;
Love blinks, Wit slaps, and social Mirth
Forgets there's Care upo' the earth.
That merry day the year begins
They bar the door on frosty win's;
The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream [ale, foam]
And sheds a heart-inspiring steam;
The luntin' pipe and sneeshin'-mill [smoking, snuff-box]
Are handed round wi' right gude-will;
The canty auld folk crackin' crouse, [cheerful, talking brightly]
The young anes ranting through the house--
My heart has been sae fain to see them
That I for joy hae barkit wi' them.
Still it's owre true that ye hae said,
Sic game is now owre aften play'd. [too often]
There's mony a creditable stock
O' decent, honest, fawsont folk, [well-doing]
Are riven out baith root and branch
Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench,
Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster
In favour wi' some gentle master,
Wha, aiblins, thrang a-parliamentin', [perhaps, busy]
For Britain's gude his soul indentin-- [indenturing]

CAES