“This life,” I said, “is such weary work;”
Chirped Cricket, “You’re always croaking.”
“It’s rowing against baith wind an’ tide,
And a’ for the smallest earning.”
“Ah! weel,” the merry Cricket replied,
“But the tide will soon be turning.”
“And then,” I answered, “dark clouds may rise,
And winds with the waters flowing.”
“Weel! keep a bit sunshine in your heart,
It’s a wonderfu’ help in rowing.”