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Gang
canny thro’ this world o’ oors,
An’ tak’ yer steps wi’ care,
An’ never do yer neighbours wrang,
But aye do what is fair;
For folk fa’ ne'er to rise again
Who ne’er hae fa’en before:
There’s aye a muckle slippy stane
At ilka bodie’s door.
An’ if ye see yer neighbour
fa’,
Oh! dinna pass him by,
But lend to him a helping hand,
An’ dinna let him lie;
The case may be yer ain some day,
Tho’ ye hae wealth in store:
There’s aye a muckle slippy stane
At ilka bodie’s door.
There’s slippy stanes where’re ye
gang,
In palace, hut, or ha’,
An’ ye maun
tak’ ye steps wi’ care,
Or ower them ye may fa’;
For emperors and kings may fa’,
An’ nobles many a score:
There’s aye a muckle slippy stane
At ilka bodie’s door.
from "A Scottish Scrap
Book", Collected by J.M.Cadeff and sent in by Adam McCafferty |
