Classic Poem

I like the lad that's like mysel
Content to be alane
Though he's not a penny for to tell
And sits on the hearth stane
If he's a man—a comely man
My sweet heart he shall be
Contentment is the choicest plan
Love makes us baith agree

If he's the lad thats lotted out
Then Im the Lass mysell
We'll neither live in strife or doubt
But manage matters well
And if he is the lad for me
And I become his ain
Black slanderous tongues may disagree
The quarrels all in vain

I'll luiv and keep him all my sen
And gie him a' my heart
To me he'll be the man o' men
Love's wholly not a part
I hate to ain yer bits o' men
Like Tailors cabbage gear
Ill be his woman every night
He my man a' the year

Ill love the man that's like mysel
Contented wi his ain
For Im content as a' may tell
To we[d] or lie alane
I little mind come weal or woe
Contented wi the gieing ont
The earth war made for love I know
And Im content wi living ont