Robert Burns

* * *

O can ye labour lea, young man,
  	An’ can ye labour lea;
Gae back the gate ye cam’ again,
  	Ye’se never scorn me.

I fee’d a man at Martinmas,
  	Wi’ arle pennies three;
An’ a’ the faut I fan’ wi’ him,
  	He couldna labour lea.

The stibble rig is easy plough’d,
  	The fallow land is free;
But wha wad keep the handless coof,
  	That couldna labour lea?