Yet gin I weary.
Altho’ it’s but a kin’ o’ croon,
It keeps ane cheery.
Gin ower ye’re thairms[55] I jink the bow,
Bright notions bizz intae ma pow,
For worl’y cares ye them can cow,
An’ a’ gangs richt,
When ower I stump[56] ‘Nathaniel Gow,’
Or ‘Grey daylicht.’
Wi’ reek an’ rozet noo ye’re black