Poortith Cauld Michael Tippett

O poortith cauld, and restless love
Ye wrack my peace between ye;
Yet poortith a' I could forgive
An 'twere na for my Jeanie

O why should Fate sic pleasure have
Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune's shining?

This warld's wealth when I think on
Its pride, and a' the lave o't;
My curse on silly coward man
That he should be the slave o't

Her een sae bonie blue betray
How shе repays my passion;
But Prudence is hеr o'erword ay
She talks o' rank and fashion

O wha can prudence think upon
And sic a lassie by him:
O wha can prudence think upon
And sae in love as I am?

How blest the wild-wood Indian's fate
He wooes his simple Dearie:
The silly bogles, Wealth and State
Did never make them eerie