'Tis lichtsome, tae meet wi' pleased faces, Let that be at hame or a-fiel, It helps, in a bundle o' cases, Tae brighten the views o' a chiel. It slackens the grip o' misfortune, Sets gloom to the back o' the door, An' mixt in the sweet words o' courtin' A smile has the weight o' a score. The wealthy, the titled, an' sturdy, Mak' use o' the word o' command, Wi' haun at the hilt o' the sword aye, They'll thraw, but they manna be thrawn ; 'Twere nicer tae share wi' the million, Whaur sympathies seldom rin dry, Than to ramp out an' in, like a stallion, An' baun at puir bodies gaun bye. 'Tis ne'er unco lang till we're needin', Be sick or be hale at the heart, An' that gars puir bodies be dreadin' They'll no hae the luck tae be sairt. But Happiness, far may she travel, Ne'er stuck in the trammels o' clink, Her course is mair open an' level Than some easy onlookers think.
The Village of Chryston - North Lanarkshire - Scotland
Walter Watson
The Chryston Poet