*The Remonstrance*

Noo man, hoo can ye think it richt To waste your time, nicht after nicht, An' hunker in the failin' licht Wi' moody broo, Like some puir dwinin' thewless wicht Wi' death in view?

I've taul' ye aft aneuch it's nae As if ye'd aught 'at's new to say, Or said auld things some better way, Or like some callants Gat fouk to praise your sangs an' pay Ye for your ballants.

Instead o' vreetin' like a clerk Till bed-time brings alang the dark, Ye should be sportin' in the park An' hear the clamour Wad greet ye, should ye pass my mark Wi' stane or hammer.

Or tak' a daunder roon' the braes An' hear the blackies pipe their lays, The liftward laverock's sang o' praise, An' syne, my billie, Mak' nae mair verses a' your days-- Shut doon your millie.