The Poor Man

Loose the yett, an' let me in ,
Lady wi' the glistening ee,
Dinna let your menial train
Drive an auld man out to dee.
Cauldrife is the winter even,
See, the rime hangs at my chin ;
Lady, for the sake of Heaven,
Loose the yett, an' let me in !

Ye shall gain a virgin hue,
Lady, for your courtesy e,
Ever beaming, ever new,
Aye to bloom an' ne'er to dee.
Lady, there's a lovely plain
Lies beyond yon setting sun,
There we soon may meet again —
Short the race we hae to run.

Tis a land of love an' light ;
Rank or title is not there,
High an' low maun there unite,
Poor man, prince, an' lady fair;
There, what thou on earth hast given,
Doubly shall be paid again !
Lady, for the sake of Heaven,
Loose the yett, an' let me in !

Blessings rest upon thy head,
Lady of this lordly ha' !
That bright tear that thou didst shed
Fell nae down amang the snaw !
It is gane to heaven aboon,
To the fount of charitye ;
When thy days on earth are done,
That blest drop shall plead for thee.