p. 101

An’ whiles, whan they tak heart again, An’ life i’ the sun looks braw an’ plain, Doun comes a jaw o’ droukin’ rain Upon their honours— God sends a spate outower the plain, Or mebbe thun’ers.

Lord safe us, life’s an unco thing! Simmer an’ Winter, Yule an’ Spring, The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring A feck o’ trouble. I wadnae try’t to be a king—  No, nor for double.

p. 102But since we’re in it, willy-nilly, We maun be watchfü’, wise an’ skilly, An’ no mind ony ither billy, Lassie nor God. But drink—that’s my best counsel till ’e:  Sae tak the nod.

p. 102

p. 103VIII—THE COUNTERBLAST—1886

p. 103

My bonny man, the warld, it’s true, Was made for neither me nor you; It’s just a place to warstle through, As job confessed o’t; And aye the best that we’ll can do Is mak the best o’t.

My

There’s rowth o’ wrang, I’m free to say: The simmer brunt, the winter blae, The face of earth a’ fyled wi’ clay An’ dour wi’ chuckies, An’ life a rough an’ land’art play For country buckies.

p. 104An’ food’s anither name for clart; An’ beasts an’ brambles bite an’ scart; An’ what would WE be like, my heart! If bared o’ claethin’? —Aweel, I cannae mend your cart:  It’s that or naethin’.

p. 104

WE

A feck o’ folk frae first to last Have through this queer experience passed; Twa-three, I ken, just damn an’ blast The hale transaction; But twa-three ithers, east an’ wast, Fand satisfaction,

Whaur braid the briery muirs expand, A waefü’ an’ a weary land, The bumblebees, a gowden band, Are blithely hingin’; An’ there the canty wanderer fand The laverock singin’.

p. 105Trout in the burn grow great as herr’n, The simple sheep can find their fair’n’; The wind blaws clean about the cairn Wi’ caller air; The muircock an’ the barefit bairn Are happy there.

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