The best laid schemes o' mice and men

When chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare.

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal!

Gin a body meet a body Comin thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body cry?

All in this mottie, misty clime, I backward mus'd on wasted time, How I had spent my youthfu' prime An' done nae-thing, But stringing blethers up to rhyme For fools to sing.

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, O what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle!

Nature's law, That man was made to mourn.