| O' a' the trades a man can try, the beggin' is the best
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| For when a beggar’s weary he can jist sit down and rest
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| First I maun get a meal-pock made out o' leather reed
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| And it will haud twa firlots wi' room for beef and breid
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| Afore that I do gang awa, I’ll lat my beard grow strang
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| And for my nails I winna pair, for a beggar wears them lang
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| I’ll gang to find some greasy cook and buy frae her a hat
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| Wi' twa-three inches o' a rim, a' glitterin' owre wi' fat
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| Syne I’ll gang to a turner and gar him mak a dish
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| And it maun haud three chappins for I cudna dee wi' less
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| I’ll gang and seek my quarters before that it grows dark
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| Jist when the guidman’s sitting doon and new-hame frae his wark
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| Syne I’ll tak out my muckle dish and stap it fu' o' meal
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| And say, «Guidwife, gin ye gie me bree, I winna seek you kail»
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| And maybe the guidman will say, «Puirman, put up your meal
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| You’re welcome to your brose the nicht, likewise your breid and kail»
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| If there’s a wedding in the toon, I’ll airt me to be there
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| And pour my kindest benison upon the winsome pair
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| And some will gie me breid and beef and some will gie me cheese
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| And I’ll slip out among the folk and gather up bawbees |