Now, when I gae to kirk or fair,
The laddies scoff, the lassies jeer; —
"Is this poor Jock? — the good be here!
For sure he's made a wedding o't.
What is become of a' his fun?
Alak! his joyfu' days are done;
Or else he's pawn'd his dancing shoon,
Sin he has made a wedding o't.
Sure marriage is a dreadfu' thing!
Ye mind 'tis only i' the spring
That little birdies chirp and sing,
Or, till they've made a wedding o't."