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Pale poverty an’ girnin’ care,
How lang will ye haraſs us, O?
Yet light’s the load we hae to bear,
If leſſen’d by the laſſes, O!
Fair fa’, &c.
The rich may ſneer as they gae by,
Or ſcornfully may paſs us, O!
Their better lot let’s ne’er envy,
But live and love the laſſes, O!
Fair fa’, &c.
Why ſhould we ever ſigh for wealth?
Sic thoughts ſhou’d never faſh us, O;
A fig for pelf, when bleſt wi’ health,
Content, an’ bonnie laſſes, O!
Fair fa, &c.
The ancient Bards, to ſhaw their ſkill,
Plac’d Muſes on Parnaſſus, O;
But let them fable as they will,
My Muſes are the laſſes, O!
Fair fa’, &c.
The drunkard cries, the joys o’ wine
A’ither mirth ſurpaſſes. O,
But he ne’er kent the bliſs divine,
That I hae wi’ the laſſes, o!
Fair fa’, &c.
