Classic Poem

Ye may laugh brawly i' the now,
Ye may joke as you like;
But ye shouldna say the hinnie's good
Afore ye tak' the bike.
Love does weel eneugh to joke about
When comes the gloamin' bat;
But marriage is an awfu' thing:
It's nae fun, that !

We twa are geyan young yet,
We ha'ena meikle gear,
And, if glaikitly we yokit,
We wad aye be toilin' sair;
Maybe poverty wad mak' us
Like our collie and the cat: —
An tearfu' een and scartit lugs —
It's nae fun, that.

The men are in a hurry aye —
Will ye gie a body time?
And yet, I needna forward look,
I canna see a styme:
To gi'e a body's sel' awa'
For — 'od! I kenna what,
It gars a thoughtless lassie think —
It's nae fun, that!

And now the cloud is on your brow,
I shouldna vex you sae;
Yet in my last free maiden hour,
Why mind you what I say?
My first love and my last are you,
My lassie's heart you caught —
O! guess my love by what ye feel —
It's nae fun, that!