Robert Burns

* * *

O THAT I had ne’er been married,
  I wad never had nae care;
Now I’ve gotten wife and bairns,
  An’ they cry crowdie ever mair.
    Ance crowdie, twice crowdie,
      Three times crowdie in a day;
    Gin ye crowdie ony mair,
      Ye’ll crowdie a’ my meal away.

Waefu want and hunger fley me,
  Glowrin’ by the hallen en’;
Sair I fecht them at the door,
  But aye I’m eerie they come ben.