Page:Underwoods, Stevenson, 1887.djvu/127

 VIII

THE COUNTERBLAST—1886

bonny man, the warld, it's true,

Was made for neither me nor you;

It's just a place to warstle through,

As Job confessed o't;

And aye the best that we'll can do

Is mak the best o't.

There's rowth o' wrang, I'm free to say:

The simmer brunt, the winter blae,

The face of earth a' fyled wi' clay

An' dour wi' chuckies,

An' life a rough an' land'art play

For country buckies.