Bright seem the days when I wor young
Fra thought, and care, and sorrow free;
As wild waves rippled i’ the sun,
Rolled gaily on, ’twor so wi’ me.

More bright the flowers when I wor young,
More sweet the birds sang on the tree;
While pleasure and contentment flung
Her smiles on them, and so wi’ me.

The naked truth I told when young,
Though tempted wi’ hypocrisy;
Though some embraced, from it I sprang,
An’ said it isn’t so wi’ me.

I saw the canting jibs when young,
Of saintly, sulky misery;
Yet poked I melancholy’s ribs,
And said it isn’t so wi’ me.

Though monny a stone when I wor young,
Is strong upon my memory—
I threw when young an’ hed ’em flung;
If they forgive, ’tis so wi’ me.

Could money buy o’ Nature’s mart,
Again our brightest days to see;
Ther’s monny a wun wod pawn the shirt,
Or else they’d buy—and so wi’ me.

Yet after all I oft look back,
Without a pang o’ days gone past,
An’ hope all t’wrong I did when young,
May be forgi’n to me at last.