I.
O! why should old age so much wound us?[2] There is nothing in it all to confound us: For how happy now am I, With my old wife sitting by, And our bairns and our oys all around us; For how happy now am I, &c.
O! why should old age so much wound us?[2] There is nothing in it all to confound us: For how happy now am I, With my old wife sitting by, And our bairns and our oys all around us; For how happy now am I, &c.