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Among rich folks up and down,
Both in country and in town.
Who now live but scrimply and barely, O.
Then why should people brag of prosperity, O,
A straighten’d life we see is no rarity, O,
Indeed we’ve been in want,
And our living been but scant,
Yet we never were reduc’d to need charity, O.
In this house we first came together, O,
Where we’ve long been a father and mither, O,
And, tho’ not of stone and lime,
It will last us a’ our time,
And, I hope, we shall never need anither, O.
And when we leave this habitation, O,
We’ll depart with a good commendation, O,
We’ll go hand and hand, I wiss,
To a better house than this,
To make some room for the next generation, O.
Then why should old age so much wound us, O,
There is naething in it all to confound us, O,
For how happy now am I,
With my old wife sitting by,
And our bairns and our oys all around us, O.
