Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,
And, Andrew dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad, [queer]
And muckle they may grieve ye: [much]
For care and trouble set your thought,
Ev'n when your end's attained:
And a' your views may come to nought,
Where ev'ry nerve is strained.
I'll no say men are villains a';
The real harden'd wicked,
Wha hae nae check but human law,
Are to a few restricked;
But och! mankind are unco weak, [extremely]
An' little to be trusted;
If Self the wavering balance shake,
It's rarely right adjusted!
Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's strife.
Their fate we shouldna censure;
For still th' important end of life
They equally may answer.
A man may hae an honest heart,
Tho' poortith hourly stare him; [poverty]
A man may tak a neibor's part,
Yet hae nae cash to spare him.
Aye free, aff han', your story tell,
When wi' a bosom crony;
But still keep something to yoursel
Ye scarcely tell to ony.
Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can
Frae critical dissection;
But keek thro' ev'ry other man [pry]
Wi' sharpen'd sly inspection.
The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love, [flame]
Luxuriantly indulge it;
But never tempt th' illicit rove, [attempt, roving]
Tho' naething should divulge it:
I waive the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard of concealing;
But och! it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling!
To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile,
Assiduous wait upon her;
And gather gear by ev'ry wile
That's justified by honour;
Not for to hide it in a hedge,
Nor for a train-attendant;
But for the glorious privilege
Of being independent.
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