The warl’ly race may riches chase,
An’ riches still may fly them, O:
An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.
But gi’e me a canny hour at e’en,
My arms about my dearie, O:
An’ warl’ly cares, an’ warl’ly men,
May a’ gae tapsalteerie, O.
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this,
Ye’re nought but senseless asses, O: