They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight,
The view o't gi'es them little fright.
Then chance and fortune are sae guided,
They're aye in less or mair provided;
An' though fatigued wi' close employment,
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment.
The dearest comfort o' their lives,
Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives; [growing]
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a' their fireside.
And whyles twalpenny-worth o' nappy [quart of ale]
Can mak the bodies unco happy; [wonderfully]
They lay aside their private cares
To mind the Kirk and State affairs:
They'll talk o' patronage and priests,
Wi' kindling fury in their breasts;
Or tell what new taxation's comin',
And ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. [wonder]
As bleak-faced Hallowmas returns
They get the jovial rantin' kirns, [harvest-homes]
When rural life o' every station.
Unite in common recreation;
Love blinks, Wit slaps, and social Mirth
Forgets there's Care upo' the earth.
That merry day the year begins
They bar the door on frosty win's;
The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream [ale, foam]
And sheds a heart-inspiring steam;
The luntin' pipe and sneeshin'-mill [smoking, snuff-box]
Are handed round wi' right gude-will;