http://www.box.net/shared/jvkgcdwjok
When I sit at my spinning wheel,
And think on every station,
I think I'm happiest mysel,
At my small occupation.
No court, nor freet, nor dark debate,
Can e'er attend my dwelling,
While I make cloth of diff'rent sorts,
Which is an honest calling.
Indeed ye know the nights are lang,
And sometimes I do weary,
But, as they'll shortly turn again,
I hope I'll grow more cheary.
I'll sing a song with noble glee,
And tune that I think canty,
But I sing best, it is no jest,
When the tobacco's plenty.
I live content, I pay no rent,
In my quiet habitation,
For B -- e he did order it,
Which shews his great discretion.
To favour one so low as me,
While I was no relation;
But now he's dead, and in the clay,
I hope he's won the blessing.
M'A -- m brave, agrees to this
Kind, honest disposition,
He's charitable, just and true,
Not like most men of fashion.
I have no reason here to fret,
That I was never married,
Since I a free possession get,
Of freedom I'm not wearied.
For when around me I do look,
And see the merchants dealing,
For they do triple profit take
every thing they're selling;
For honesty is grown so weak,
It is so old a fashion,
'Tis not regarded in our day,
'Tis scarce throughout the nation.
Kind Providence sent a good crop
For to support our nation,
But Satan's crew sent it abroad,
Which is a sad vexation,
That e'er such blackguard vagabonds
Should have a habitation
Below our British government,
That takes this occupation.
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*"Lass O' Gowrie" is set to the tune of "Loch Erroch Side," which is probably the tune to which Pagan's text refers.
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