For whare there's a will there is always a way.
'What though we are cotters?—the poorest may flourish,
And wha wadna rise wi' the glorious few?
Industry works wonders—its spirit aye nourish—
It isna the drone gathers hinney, I trew.
Then onward, my laddie! ye canna regret it;
What wrecks and what tears have been caused by delay!
If noble your wish is, press on, ye will get it!
For whare there's a will there is always a way.'
Thus spak my auld mither: ilk word seemed a sermon,