Classic Poem

Did ivver ye see the like o' that?
The warld 's fair fashioned to winder at!
Heuch — dinna tell me! Yon 's Fishie Pete
That cried the haddies in Ferry Street
Set up wi' his coats an' his grand cigars
In ane o' thae stinkin' motor-cars!

I mind the time (an' it 's no far past)
When he wasna for fleein' alang sae fast,
An' doon i' the causey his cairt wad stand
As he roared oot " Haddies!" below his hand;
Ye'd up wi' yer windy an' doon he'd loup
Frae the shaft o' the cairt by the sheltie's doup.

Ay, muckle cheenges an' little sense,
A bawbee's wit an' a poond's pretence!
For there 's him noo wi' his neb to the sky
I' yon deil's machinery swiggit by,
An' me, that whiles gied him a piece to eat,
Tramps aye to the kirk on my ain twa feet.

And neebours, mind ye, the warld 's agley
Or we couldna see what we've seen the day;
Guid fortune 's blate whaur she's weel desairv't
The sinner fu' and the godly stairv't,
An' fowk like me an' my auld guidman
Jist wearied daein' the best we can!

I've kept my lips an' my tongue frae guile
An' kept mysel' to mysel' the while;
Agin a' wastrels I've aye been set
And I'm no for seekin' to thole them yet;
A grand example I've been through life,
A righteous liver, a thrifty wife.

But oh! the hert o' a body bleeds
For favours sclarried on sinfu' heids.
Wait you a whilie! Ye needna think
They'll no gang frae him wi' cairds an' drink!
They'll bring nae blessin', they winna bide,
For the warst sin, neebours, is pride, ay, pride!