Her grief brak out sae fierce and fell,

I thought her heart wad burst the shell;

And—I was sae left to mysel’—

I sell’t her an annuity.

The bargain lookit fair eneugh—

She just was turned o’ saxty-three.

I couldna guessed she’d prove sae teugh,

By human ingenuity.

But years have come, and years have gane,

And there she’s yet, as stieve as stane;