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Rh Pale poverty an’ girnin’ care, How lang will ye haraſs us, O? Yet light’s the load we hae to bear, If leſſen’d by the laſſes, O! Fair fa’, &c.

The rich may ſneer as they gae by, Or ſcornfully may paſs us, O! Their better lot let’s ne’er envy, But live and love the laſſes, O! Fair fa’, &c.

Why ſhould we ever ſigh for wealth? Sic thoughts ſhou’d never faſh us, O; A fig for pelf, when bleſt wi’ health, Content, an’ bonnie laſſes, O! Fair fa, &c.

The ancient Bards, to ſhaw their ſkill, Plac’d Muſes on Parnaſſus, O; But let them fable as they will, My Muſes are the laſſes, O! Fair fa’, &c.

The drunkard cries, the joys o’ wine A’ither mirth ſurpaſſes. O, But he ne’er kent the bliſs divine, That I hae wi’ the laſſes, o! Fair fa’, &c.