And cranreuch cauld.
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The bes laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft a-gley,
And lea 'e us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee,
But, och! I backward cast my ee