Ye think the sun should shine as day?
It widna please the gairdeners!
An gin the rain ding doon the hay
It fair dismays the fairmers.

The snoddest rose will job yer thoomb,
The aipple rot, an faa,
I've niver seen the pitcher yet
That didna hae its flaw.
Its jist a step, frae bonnie bride,
Tae stirkie in the staa.

Ye pu the flooer, it dwines an dees
Ye bake, the breid grows stale
There's nae the dug, bit's deaved wi fleas
There's nae a joy that's hale
An love that burned sae bricht yestreen,
The morn, is cauld as kail.