Makkin th' best o' what falls to her lot,
Shoo's content wi her own humble hooam,
For her world's i' this snug little cot.
We know 'at we're both growin' old,
But Time's traces we hardly can see;
An tho' fifty years o'er us have roll'd,
Shoo's still th same young Dolly to me.
Her face may be wrinkled an grey,
An her een may be losin' ther shine,
But her heart's just as leetsum to-day