When Matters Are Desperate We Must Put

O, Wad Some Power The Giftie Gie Us To See Oursels As Others See Us! It Wad Frae Monie A Blunder Free Us, An' Foolish Notion.

How Wretched Is The Person Who Hangs On By The Favors Of The Powerful.

For Gold The Merchant Ploughs The Main, The Farmer Ploughs The Manor.

Good Lord, What Is Man! For As Simple He Looks, Do But Try To Develop His Books And His Crooks, With His Depths And His Shallows, His Good And His Evil, All In All, He's A Problem Must Puzzle The Devil.

Even Every Ray Of Hope Destroyed And Not A Wish To Gild The Gloom.