If there 's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it; A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes, And, faith, he 'll prent it.
Morality, thou deadly bane, Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain! Vain is his hope, whose stay an' trust is In moral mercy, truth, and justice!
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
My heart is sair-I dare na tell, My heart is sair for Somebody.
God knows, I'm no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be.
Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.