Classic Poem

The wifie wha sits by her gudeman's knee,
An' keeks in his face wi' her slee black ee;
Losh! how the bodie will startle and stare,
Gin she see in his pow the first grey hair.

Ere the leaves o' the forest hae fa'en or hae dow'd,
When the fields are a' wimplin' an' wavin' in gowd;
Losh! how the farmer will shiver an' quake,
Gin he see at his feet the first snaw-flake.

When fortune is couthie, an' freens are a' leal,
An' wifie an' weanies are canty an' weel,
Ah! how ye feel gin Death maks his first ca,
An' taks e'en your youngest bit tottum awa!

The early grey hair, an' the early snaw-flake,
May weel mak us cower, an' may weel mak us quake;
But oh! when the young bud is reft frae the tree,
The auld leafless trunk sune maun wither an' dee.

In stern auld December, in smiling young May,
We see Nature changing, we mark her decay;
But the first hint to manhood o' eild's chilly care,
Is the icicle look o' the first grey hair.