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O Fortune! thou hast us'd me ill;
Far waur than my deservin', O;
Thrice o'er the crown thou'st knock'd me down,
An' left me hafflins starvin', O:
Thy roughest blast has blawn the last,
My lass has us'd me meanlie, O;
Thy sharpest dart has pierc'd my heart,
An' ta'en frae me my Jeanie, O.
I'll nae mair strive, while I'm alive,
For aught but missin' slavery, O.
This world's a stage, a pilgrimage,
A mass o' nought but knav'ry, O:
If fickle fame but save my name,
An' frae oblivion screen me, O;
Then farewell fortune, farewell love,
An' farewell bonnie Jeanie, O.
FINIS.
