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I've notic'd on our Laird's court day,
And mony a time my heart's been wae,
Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash,
How they maun thole a factor's snash;
He'll stamp, and threaten, curse and swear,
He'll apprehend them, poind their gear;
While they maun stan' wi' aspect humble,
And hear it a', and fear and trembleǃ
I see how fock live that hae riches;
But surely poor folk maun be wretches.
And mony a time my heart's been wae,
Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash,
How they maun thole a factor's snash;
He'll stamp, and threaten, curse and swear,
He'll apprehend them, poind their gear;
While they maun stan' wi' aspect humble,
And hear it a', and fear and trembleǃ
I see how fock live that hae riches;
But surely poor folk maun be wretches.
LUATH.
They're nae sae wretched's ane wad think;
Tho' constantly on poortith's brink,
They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight,
The view o't gies them little fright.
Then chance and fortune are sae guided,
They 're ay in less or mair provided;
And tho' fatigu'd wi' close employment,
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment.
The dearest comfort o' their lives,
Their gushie weans, and faithfu' wives;
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a' their fireside.
And whiles twalpennieworth o' nappy
Can mak the bodies unco happy;
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 at the fock in Lon'on.
As black-fac'd Hallomas returns,
They get the jovial, rantin kirns,
They're nae sae wretched's ane wad think;
Tho' constantly on poortith's brink,
They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight,
The view o't gies them little fright.
Then chance and fortune are sae guided,
They 're ay in less or mair provided;
And tho' fatigu'd wi' close employment,
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment.
The dearest comfort o' their lives,
Their gushie weans, and faithfu' wives;
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a' their fireside.
And whiles twalpennieworth o' nappy
Can mak the bodies unco happy;
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 at the fock in Lon'on.
As black-fac'd Hallomas returns,
They get the jovial, rantin kirns,
