And, Andrew dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad, [queer]
And muckle they may grieve ye: [much]
For care and trouble set your thought,
Ev'n when your end's attainéd:
And a' your views may come to nought,
Where ev'ry nerve is strainéd.

I'll no say men are villains a';
The real harden'd wicked,
Wha hae nae check but human law,
Are to a few restricked;
But och! mankind are unco weak, [extremely]
An' little to be trusted;
If Self the wavering balance shake,
It's rarely right adjusted!

Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife.
Their fate we shouldna censure;
For still th' important end of life
They equally may answer.
A man may hae an honest heart,
Tho' poortith hourly stare him; [poverty]
A man may tak a neibor's part,
Yet hae nae cash to spare him.

Aye free, aff han', your story tell,
When wi' a bosom crony;
But still keep something to yoursel
Ye scarcely tell to ony.