Is in your spikes and roses shown,
And a’ my soul is haggar’d wi’t....
Be like the thistle, O my soul,
Heedless o’ praise and quick to tak’ affront,
And growin’ like a mockery o’ a’
Maist life can want or thole,
And manifest forevermair
Contempt o’ ilka goal.
O’ ilka goal—save ane alane;
To be yoursel’, whatever that may be,