Classic Poem

Let ilka man sit on his ain pock neuk,
Let ilka laird glour frae his ain door stane,
Let ilk misty scribbler read his ain beuk,
They'll save themsels trouble, an' ithers pain.

Let ilka man redd, wha seeks for a quarrel,
Let ilk pay his lawin', an' count his gain;
Let a'body laugh, an' naebody snarl,
They'll save themsels trouble, an' ithers pain.

Let ilka lad wed the lass he lo'es best,
Let ilka lass follow her heart when fain,
Let ilk try himsel' by his neebour's test,
They'll save themsels trouble, an' ithers pain.

An' aye, till the warld be better divided,
Let ilk ane depend on himsel' alane,
Wi' a' that he wants he'll soon be provided,
An' save himsel' trouble, an' ithers pain.