The Canongate Burns. Robert Burns
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we hae little gear; have, wealth
We’re fit to win our daily bread,
As lang’s we’re hale and fier: long as, whole, vigorous
25 ‘Mair spier na, nor fear na,’1 don’t ask more, nor fear
Auld age ne’er mind a feg; old, fig
The last o’t, the warst o’t, worst
Is only but to beg.
To lie in kilns and barns at e’en,
30 When banes are craz’d, and bluid is thin, bones, blood
Is, doubtless, great distress!
Yet then content could make us blest;
Ev’n then, sometimes, we’d snatch a taste
Of truest happiness.
35 The honest heart that’s free frae a’ from all
Intended fraud or guile,
However Fortune kick the ba’, ball – whatever misfortunes
Has ay some cause to smile; always
And mind still, you’ll find still,
40 A comfort this nae sma’; not small
Nae mair then, we’ll care then, no more
Nae farther can we fa’. no, fall
What tho’, like Commoners of air, owners of air, not land
We wander out, we know not where,
45 But either house or hal’? without house or hall
Yet Nature’s charms, the hills and woods,
The sweeping vales, and foaming floods,
Are free alike to all.
In days when Daisies deck the ground,
50 And Blackbirds whistle clear,
With honest joy our hearts will bound,
To see the coming year:
On braes when we please then, hillsides
We’ll sit an’ sowth a tune; hum
55 Syne rhyme till ’t we’ll time till ’t, then
An’ sing ’t when we hae done. have
It’s no in titles nor in rank: not
It’s no in wealth like Lon’on Bank, not, London
To purchase peace and rest.
60 It’s no in makin muckle, mair: making much, more
It’s no in books, it’s no in Lear, wisdom
To make us truly blest:
If happiness hae not her seat has
An’ centre in the breast,
65 We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest:
Nae treasures nor pleasures no
Could make us happy lang; long
The heart ay ’s the part ay always is
70 That makes us right or wrang. wrong
Think ye, that sic as you and I, such
Wha drudge and drive thro’ wet and dry, who
Wi’ never ceasing toil;
Think ye, are we less blest than they,
75 Wha scarcely tent us in their way, who, notice
As hardly worth their while?
Alas! how oft, in haughty mood,
GOD’s creatures they oppress!
Or else, neglecting a’ that’s guid, good
80 They riot in excess!
Baith careless and fearless both
Of either Heaven or Hell;
Esteeming and deeming
It a’ an idle tale!
85 Then let us chearfu’ acquiesce,
Nor make our scanty Pleasures less
By pining at our state:
And, even should Misfortunes come,
I here wha sit hae met wi’ some, who, have
90 An ’s thankfu’ for them yet,
They gie the wit of Age to Youth; give
They let us ken oursel; know ourselves
They make us see the naked truth,
The real guid and ill: good
95 Tho’ losses and crosses
Be lessons right severe,
There’s Wit there, ye’ll get there,
Ye’ll find nae other where. no
But tent me, DAVIE, Ace o’ Hearts! take heed
100 (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes, And flatt’ry I detest) anything, would wrong, cards
This life has joys for you and I;
And joys that riches ne’er could buy,
And joys the very best.
105 There’s a’ the Pleasures o’ the Heart,
The Lover an’ the Frien’; friend
Ye hae your MEG, your dearest part, have
And I my darling JEAN!
It warms me, it charms me
110 To mention but her name:
It heats me, it beets me, enraptures
And sets me a’ on flame!
O all ye Pow’rs who rule above!
O THOU whose very self art love!
115 THOU know’st my words sincere!
The life blood streaming thro’ my heart,
Or my more dear Immortal part,
Is not more fondly dear!
When heart-corroding care and grief
120 Deprive my soul of rest,
Her dear idea brings relief
And solace to my breast.
Thou BEING, All-seeing,
O hear my fervent pray’r!
125 Still take her, and make her
THY most peculiar care!
All hail! ye tender feelings dear!
The smile of love, the friendly tear,
The sympathetic glow!
130 Long since, this world’s thorny ways
Had number’d out my weary days,
Had it not been for you!
Fate still has blest me with a friend
In every care and ill;
135 And oft a more endearing band,
A tye more tender still. tie
It lightens, it brightens
The