CONTENTED wi little, and cantie wi mair,
Wheneer I forgather wi Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp as theyre creeping alang,
Wi a cog o gude swats and an auld Scottish sang.
Chorus.Contented wi little, &c.
I whiles claw the elbow o troublesome thought;
But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught;
My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedoms my Lairdship nae monarch dare touch.
Contented wi little, &c.
A townmond o trouble, should that be may fa,
A night o gude fellowship sowthers it a:
When at the blythe end o our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o the road he has past?
Contented wi little, &c.
Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way;
Bet to me, bet frae me, een let the jade gae:
Come Ease, or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is: Welcome, and welcome again!
Contented wi little, &c.