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