We've a' ta'en the rue, an' grown callants again;
We've a' ta'en the rue, an' grown callants again:
Man's honour is folly, his wisdom is vain —
We've ta'en a new thocht, an' grown callants again.
We'll aff to fair Roslin an' sweet Habbie's Howe,
By fairy-led streamlet, and castle-crowned knowe;
We'll climb the high Pentlands, without pech or grane, —
The green hills will mak us a' callants again.
O, wha wad hae wisdom that comes when ye're auld?
An' wha wad hae honours that bend ye twa-fauld?
Man grows till a sage, an' a sage till a wean —
Sae we've ta'en a new lease, an' grown callants again.
Thus man wad be callant, an' callant be man;
We shouther through life a' as canny's we can;
The best way ava 's ne'er to mak ony mane, —
But loup, kick the ba', an' grow callants again.
Oh, manhood gains glory, an' age gather's gear,
But bairn-time has joys that the heart aye hauds dear;
An' wadna the loun be right bauld to complain,
Wha can cast aff his age, an' grow callant again?
We've a' ta'en the rue, an' grown callants again:
Man's honour is folly, his wisdom is vain —
We've ta'en a new thocht, an' grown callants again.
We'll aff to fair Roslin an' sweet Habbie's Howe,
By fairy-led streamlet, and castle-crowned knowe;
We'll climb the high Pentlands, without pech or grane, —
The green hills will mak us a' callants again.
O, wha wad hae wisdom that comes when ye're auld?
An' wha wad hae honours that bend ye twa-fauld?
Man grows till a sage, an' a sage till a wean —
Sae we've ta'en a new lease, an' grown callants again.
Thus man wad be callant, an' callant be man;
We shouther through life a' as canny's we can;
The best way ava 's ne'er to mak ony mane, —
But loup, kick the ba', an' grow callants again.
Oh, manhood gains glory, an' age gather's gear,
But bairn-time has joys that the heart aye hauds dear;
An' wadna the loun be right bauld to complain,
Wha can cast aff his age, an' grow callant again?