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Disasters a' would disappear;
Then begins the jub'lee year.
O hon, &c.
THE WAYWARD WIFE.
Alas! my son, you little know,
The sorrows that from wedlock flow.
Farewell to ev'ry day of ease,
When you've gotten a wife to please.
Sae bide you yet, and bide you yet,
Ye little ken what's to betide ye yet;
The half o' that will gane you yet,
If a wayward wife obtain you yet.
When I like you was young and free,
I valued not the proudest she;
Like you I vainly boasted then,
That men alone were born to reign.
But bide ye yet, &c.
Great Hercules and Samson too,
Were stronger men than I or you;
Yet they were baffled by their dears,
And felt the distaff and the sheers.
Sae bide ye yet, &c.
