3
But to our tale, which shall the truth declare.
There was a man liv'd near the town o' Ayr
Whase way o' life we will attempt to show,
That all wha read, may learn an' wiser grow.
Aye frae his youth he was inclin’d to care—
While ithers spent, his money he would spare—
Whan young chaps fairings cat, an' dress'd fu'trig,
He kept his bawbees in a pinor-pig;[1]
At school, he aften sell't his bread an' cheese;
An' gather'd prins, or ought wad bring bawbecs.
His father dee't, nae hame ava had he,
To his ain fen he gaed an' took a fee.
Would foolish mortals fallow Reason's light,
An' whan they're weel, try to continue right,
Then might they aften frae their troubling cease,
An' let themsel's an' ithers live in peace.
Now was the time he hit the happy mark,
He wrought an' gat his wages for his wark,
His siller lent, wi' pleasure he would tell,
It gain'd as fast as he could do himsel'.
He gather'd, view'd, an' sav'd, how happy now,[2]
An' every day he liv'd he richer grew.
At length, resolv'd to change his way o' life,
He made a bauld attempt an' took a wife—
A wife, of carthly gifts, by Wisdom's plan
Design'd the best, a helpmate unto man,
Prov'd not a blessing to a man like this,
But seal'd her own unhappiness an' his.
She wish'd to live a moderate, frugal mean,
- ↑ Pinor-pig, a small earthen jar, with a slit in one of its sides, near the top, large enough to admit pieces of money; but from which they are not easily extracted without breaking the vessel.
- ↑ Avarice is an uniform and tractable vice; other intellectual distempers are different in different constitutions of mind. That which soothes the pride of one, will offend the pride of another; but to the favour of the covetous bring money, and nothing is denied.
