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Our bairns they cam' thick-- we were thankful for that, For the bit and the brattie' cam' aye alang wi' them ;
Our pan we exchanged for a guid muckle pat, And somehow or ither, we aye had to gi'e them. Our laddies grew up, and they wrought wi' mysel', Ilk ane gat as buirdly-and-stout as a miller, Our lasses they keepet us trig aye, and hale, And now we can count a bit trifle o sillor.
But I and my Jenny are baith wearin' down, And our lads and our lassies hae a' gotten married Yet see, we can rank wi' the best i' the town, Though our noddles we never to paughtily carried. And mark me-I've now got a braw cockit hat, And in our civic building an reckon'd a pillar; Is na That a bit honour for ane to get at, Wha married for love, and wha wrought for siller?
THE LASS OF ARRANTEENIE.
FORLORN amang the Highland hills, 'Midst Nature's wildest' grandeur, By rocky dens, an' woody glens, With weary steps I wander. The langsome way, the darksome day, Are nought to me when gaun to thee, Sweet lass o' Arranteenie.
Yon mossy rosebud down the howe, Just opning fresh and bonny, It blinks beneath the hazle bough, An's scarcely seen by ony ; Sae sweet amidst her native hills, Obscurely blooms my Jeany, Mair fair an' gay than rossy May, The flower o' Arranteenie.
Now from the mountain's lofty brow, I view the distant ocean, There Av'rice guides the bounding prow Ambition courts promotion.
