I've wonder'd sin I kent mysel,
What keeps the men swok aw frae me;
I's as guid-like as cousin Tib,
And she can hae her choice o' three:
For me, still moilin by mysel,
Life's just a bitter widout sweets;
The simmer brings nae pleasant days,
And winter tires wi' lang, lang neets.
I had some whopes o' Wully yence,
And Wully was the only yen;
I dreamt and dreamt about him lang,
But whopes and Wully aw are geane:
A kiss he'd hev, I gev him twee,
Reet weel I mind, amang the hay;
Neist time we met, he glump'd and gloom'd,
And turn'd his head anither way.
A feyne pink sash my uncle sent
Frae Lunnon yence; about my waist
I wore't and wore't, but de'il a lad
At me or sash a luik e'er cast:
My yellow gown I thought was sure
To catch some yen at Carel Fair,
But, Oh! fareweel to gown and sash,
I'll niver, niver wear it mair!
The throssle, when cauld winter's geane,
Aye in our worchet welcomes spring,-
It mun be luive, did we but ken,
Gars him aroun his partner sing;-
The cock and hen, the duck and drake,
Nay e'en the smawest birds that flee,
Ilk thing that lives, can get a mate,
Except sec sworry things as me.
I often think how married fwok
Mun lead a sweet and happy life;
The prattlin bairns rin toddlin roun,
And tie the husband to the wife:
Then, oh! what joy when neet draws on!
She meets him gangen frae his wark;
But nin can tell what cheerfu' cracks
The tweesome ha'e lang efter dark.
The wise man lives nit far frae this,
I'll hunt him out suin as I can;
He telt Nan Dobson whee she'd wed,
And I'm as likely, sure, as Nan;
But still, still moilin by mysel,
Life's just a bitter widout sweets:
The summer brings nee pleasant days,
And winter tires wi' lang, lang neets!

August 3, 1802.