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It's no our part oursel's to trouble
About a phantom, or a bubble:
We thank our stars for best respects.
That kept sic lades clear aff our necks.
It's ours to toil wi* canny care.
An' try to mak a penny mair;
In case auld age, or some disaster
Come on, an' we may need a plaister.
If law an' justice keep their feet,
Industry seldom wants her meat;
Nor can there be a morsel sweeter.
Or mair substantial to the eater.
FORTUNE IS A SLIDD'RY THING.
Weel, Fortune is a slidd'ry thing.
She's scarce at rest, but on the wing;

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