Contented Wi' Little

1.
Contented wi' little and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' guid swats and an auld Scottish sang.
2.
I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome Thought;
But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught.
My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom's my lairdship nae monarch daur touch.
3.
A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the Deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?
4.
Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way,
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae!
Come Ease or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is:- ' Welcome, and welcome again!'

Contented With Little


Contented with little and jolly with more,
Whenever I forgather with Sorrow and Care,
I gave them a slap, as they are creeping along,
With a dish of good new ale and an old Scottish song.

I sometimes scratch the elbow of troublesome Thought;
But Man is a soldier, and Life is a fight.
My mirth and good humour are coin in my pocket,
And my Freedom is my lairdship no monarch dare touch.

A twelve-month of trouble, should that be my fall,
A night of good fellowship solders (mends) it all:
When at the blythe end of our journey at last,
Who the Devil ever thinks of the road he has past?

Blind Chance, let her stumble and stagger on her way,
Be it to me, be it from me, even let the old woman go!
Come Ease or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My worst word is:- ' Welcome, and welcome again!'