Life aye has been.
[Tune, "Cauld kail in Aberdeen."]
Life aye has been a weary roun'
Whare expectation's bluntet,
Whare hope gets mony a crackit crown,
An' patience, sairly duntet,
Alang the road rins hirplin' down
Beside neglectit merit,
Whase heart gi'es mony a weary stoun',
And broken is his spirit.
But de'il me care though fate whiles glooms,
Gae, lassie, heat the water:
Wi' fate we'll never fash our thumbs,
But gar the gill-stoup clatter.
Punch is a sea whare care ne'er sooms,
But pleasure rides it rarely,
We'll fill again whan this ane tooms,
Then let us set till't fairly.