Till they be fit to fend themsel: look after
An' tent them duly, e'en an' morn, tend
Wi' teats o' hay an' ripps o' corn. bunches, handfuls
‘An' may they never learn the gates ways
Of ither vile wanrestfu' pets— restless
To slink thro' slaps, an' reave an' steal, holes in fences
At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail. plants
So may they, like their great forbears,
For mony a year come thro' the shears;
So wives will gie them bits o' bread,