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‹‹‹ prev (281) Page 267Page 267Fiddler

(283) next ››› Page 269Page 269Gow's fareweel to whisky

(282) Page 268 - Contented wi' little
268 THE POCKET SONGSTER ;
Since whene'er I screw up my tliairm pins for a
reel,
The warld's cankerin cares are pack'd afF to the
deil.
I gang daunerin up, an' daunerin down,
An' mak blythe in their turn baith the kintra
an' town.
Gie's a waught o' your nappy, that rosin's my bow,
An' gars me play wi' bir, though it whitens my
pow.
But music is drouthy,- — the muses like drink,
Castaly was punch, — Helicon whisky skink.
Ndcht's like lifting this up, an' pouring this
down.
Oh ! it's that keeps me daunerin sae blythe up
an' down. T. A,
CONTENTED WF LITTLE,
Tune — Lumps o Puddings.
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, an' an auld Scottish sang.
I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome tlioi%lit ;
But man is a sodger, an' life is a faught.

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