Does envy niver fill your breast
When passin fowk wi' riches blest?
An' do yo niver think it wrang
At yo should have to trudge alang,
Soa poor to th' last?"

"Young man," he said "aw envy nooan;
But ther are times aw pity some,
Wi' all mi heart;
To see what troubled lives they spend,
What cares upon their hands depend;
Then aw in thoughtfulness declare
'At 'little cattle little care'
Is th' better part.

Gold is a burden hard to carry,
An' tho' Dame Fortune has been chary
O' gifts to me;
Yet still aw strive to feel content,
An' think what is, for th' best is meant;
An' th' mooast ov all aw strive for here,
Is still to keep mi conscience clear,
From dark spots free.

An' while some tax ther brains to find
What they'll be forced to leave behind,
When th' time shall come;
Aw try bi honest word an' deed,
To get what little here aw need,
An' live i' hopes at last to say,