Contented Wi' Little And Cantie Wi' Mair

Tune-"Lumps o' Puddin'."

      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 and an auld Scottish sang.      Chorus-Contented wi' little, &c.       I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought;      But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught;      My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch,      And my Freedom's my Lairdship nae monarch dare touch.      Contented wi' little, &c.       A townmond o' trouble, should that be may fa',      A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a':      When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,      Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?      Contented wi' little, &c.       Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way;      Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae:      Come Ease, or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,      My warst word is: "Welcome, and welcome again!"      Contented wi' little, &c.