In durance vile 1here must I wake and weep, And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.
The trout in yonder wimpling burn - That glides, a silver dart, - And, safe beneath the shady thorn, - Defies the anglers art.
Some hae meat and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it, But we hae meat and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thankit.
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
Gin a body meet a body Coming thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body— Need a body cry?
An honest man here lies at rest, the friend of man the friend of truth the friend of age and guide of youth. Few hearts like his with virtue warmed, few heads with knowledge so informed. If there's another world, he lives in bliss. If there is none, he made the best of this.