The warly race may riches chase, [worldly]
An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
But gie me a canny hour at e'en, [quiet]
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' warly cares, an' warly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O! [upside-down]
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, [sedate]
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O:
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O;
Her prentice han' she tried on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.
Equally personal, but not connected with love, are a few
autobiographical poems of which the following are typical. The third
of these, though prosaic enough, is interesting as perhaps Burns's
most elaborate summing up of the philosophy of his own career.
THERE WAS A LAD
There was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o' whatna style [what]
I doubt it's hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi' Robin.
Robin was a rovin' boy, [roystering]
Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin';
Robin was a rovin' boy,
Rantin' rovin' Robin.
Our monarch's hindmost year but ane [one]
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
'Twas then a blast o' Janwar win'
Blew hansel in on Robin.
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