Classic Poem

Oh wha are sae happy as me an' my Moggy?
— Oh wha are sae happy as Moggy an' me?
We're baith turnin' auld, an' our walth is soon tauld,
— But contentment bides aye in our cottage sae wee.
She toils a' the day when I'm out wi' the hirsel,
— An' chants to the bairns while I sing on the brae;
An' aye her blithe smile welcomes me frae my toil,
— When down the glen I come weary an' wae.

Aboon our auld heads we've a nice little biggin,
— That keeps out the cauld when the simmer's awa;
We've twa webs o' linen o' Moggy's ain spinnin',
— As thick as silk velvet and white as the snaw;
We've kye in the byre, an' yauds in the stable,
— A grumphie sae fat that she hardly can stand;
An' something, I guess, in yon auld painted press
— To cheer up the speerits an' steady the hand.

'Tis true we hae had mony sorrows an' crosses,
— Our pouches oft toom, an' our hearts fu' o' care;
But wi' a' our crosses, our sorrows an' losses,
— Contentment, thank heaven! has aye been our share.
I've an auld roostit sword that was left by my father,
— Whilk aye has been drawn when my king had a fae;
We hae friends ane or twa that aft gie us a ca',
— To laugh when we're happy or grieve when we're wae.

Our duke may hae gowd mair than schoolmen can reckon,
— An' flunkies to watch ilka glance o' his e'e,
His lady aye braw sittin' prim in her ha';
— But are they sae happy as Moggy an' me?
A' ye wha ne'er fand the straight road to be happy,
— Wha are nae content wi' the lot that ye dree,
Come down to the dwellin' o' whilk I've been tellin',
— You'll learn it by lookin' at Moggy an' me.