Epistle To Davie, A Brother Poet(2/11)
rsed pride.
it's hardly in a body's pow'r
to keep, at times, frae being sour,
to see how things are shar'd;
how best o' chiels are whiles in want,
while coofs on tless thousands rant,
and ken na how to wair't;
but, davie, d, ne'er fash your head,
tho' we hae little gear;
we're fit to win our daily bread,
as ng's we're hale and fier:
“mair spier na, nor fear na,”
auld age ne'er mind a feg;
the st o't, the warst o't
is only but to
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