Thy little belly shall be fill'd
Whativer comes o' mine.

A chap con nobbut do his best,
An' that aw'll do for thee,
Leavin to providence all th' rest,
An' we'st get help'd, tha'll see.

An' if thi lot's as bright an' fair
As aw could wish it, lad,
Tha'll come in for a better share
Nor iver blessed thi dad.

Aw think aw'st net ha' lived for nowt,
If, when deeath comes, aw find
Aw leave some virtuous lasses
An' some honest lads behind.

An' tho' noa coat ov arms may grace
For me, a sculptor'd stooan,
Aw hope to leave a noble race,
Wi arms o' flesh an' booan.

Then cheer up, lad, tho' things luk black,
Wi' health, we'll persevere,
An' try to find a brighter track--
We'll conquer, niver fear!

An may God shield thee wi' his wing,
Along life's stormy way,