Ah! then roun' my table wad visitors thrang, Wha laughed at my joke, and applauded my sang, Though the tane had nae point, and the tither nae glee; But of coorse they war' grand when comin' frae me!
Whan I'd plenty to gie, o' my cheer and my crack, There war' plenty to come, and wi' joy to partak'; But whanever the water grew scant at the well, I was welcome to drink all alane by mysel'.
Sae lang as my bottle was ready and free, Friends in dozens I had wha then crooded to prie, They sat ower the toddy until they war' fou,-- Noo I drink by mysel', for I'm naebody noo.
Whan I'd nae need o' aid, there were plenty to proffer, And noo whan I want it, I ne'er get the offer; I could greet whan I think hoo my siller decreast, In the feasting o' those who came only to feast.
The fulsome respec' to my gowd they did gie, I thought a' the time was intended for me, But whanever the end o' my money they saw, Their friendship, like it, also flickered awa'.
My advice ance was sought for by folks far and near, Sic great wisdom I had ere I tint a' my gear, I'm as weel able yet to gie counsel, that's true, But I may jist haud my wheesht, for I'm naebody noo.
_Contributed to the Book of Scottish Song._
THERE'S plenty come to woo me, And ca' me sweet and fair, There's plenty say they lo'e me, But they never venture mair: They never say they'll marry, Though love is all their tune, From June to Janu-a-ry, From January to June.
I canna keep frae smilin', At their flatteries and art; Wi' a' their fond beguilin', They'll ne'er beguile my heart. For nought can fix a maiden Whase heart is warm and true, But vows wi' marriage laden, Though mony come to woo.
That a's no gowd that glitters I've either heard or read, And marriage has its bitters, As well as sweets, is said. But though it gets the blame o' Some things that winna' tell, The fau't that folks complain o' Lies often wi' themsel'.
The year, as on it ranges, Within its twelvemonths' fa', Shows many sudden changes, And's lightsome wi' them a'; Though winter's tempests thicken, Spring comes wi' cheerful face; And summer smiles to quicken A' nature wi' its grace.
The year of life is marriage, And we canna wed too sune, Whan twa divide the carriage, The wark is cheerily dune. If one true heart wad hae me, For better and for worse, Wi' him I'd gladly share aye The blessing and the curse.