Soa when he comes luk breet an' gay,
An' meet him wi' a kiss,
Tha'll find him mooar inclined to stay
Wi treatment sich as this;
But if thi een luk red like that,
He'll see all's wrang at once,
He'll leet his pipe, an' don his hat,
An' bolt if he's a chonce.
Ther's mich Expected.
Life's pathway is full o' deep ruts,
An' we mun tak gooid heed lest we stumble;
Man is made up of "ifs" and of "buts,"
It'seems pairt ov his natur to grumble.
But if we'd anxiously tak
To makkin' things smooth as we're able,
Ther'd be monny a better clooath'd back,
An' monny a better spread table.
It's a sad state o' things when a man
Connot put ony faith in his brother,
An' fancies he'll chait if he can,
An' rejoice ovver th' fall ov another.
An' it's sad when yo see some 'at stand
High in social position an' power,
To know at ther fortuns wor plann'd
An' built, aght o'th' wrecks o' those lower.
It's sad to see luxury rife,
An' fortuns being thowtlessly wasted;
While others are wearin' aat life,
With the furst drops o' pleasure untasted.
Some in carriages rollin' away,
To a ball, or a rout, or a revel;
But their chariots may bear 'em some day
Varry near to the gates ov the devil.
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