Robert Burns: How To Know Him

by William Allan Neilson

For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for Fortune fairly, O.

Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O,

Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber, O;

No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow, O,

I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow, O.

But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in a palace, O.

Tho' Fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice, O;

I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther, O;

But, as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O.