Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 493. Song—Contented wi’ little, and cantie wi’ mair |
| | | | | Tune—“Lumps o’ Puddin’.” |
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| CONTENTED wi’ little, and cantie wi’ mair, | |
| Whene’er I forgather wi’ Sorrow and Care, | |
| I gie them a skelp as they’re creeping alang, | |
| Wi’ a cog o’ gude swats and an auld Scottish sang. | |
| Chorus.—Contented wi’ little, &c. | 5 |
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| I whiles claw the elbow o’ troublesome thought; | |
| But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught; | |
| My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch, | |
| And my Freedom’s my Lairdship nae monarch dare touch. | |
| Contented wi’ little, &c. | 10 |
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| A townmond o’ trouble, should that be may fa’, | |
| A night o’ gude 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? | |
| Contented wi’ little, &c. | 15 |
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| 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 wi’ little, &c. | 20 |
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