'The puir auld folk at home, ye mind, br Are frail and failing sair; br And weel I ken they'd miss me, lad, br Gin I come hame nae mair. br The grist is out, the times are hard, br The kine are only three; br I canna leave the auld folk now. br We'd better bide a wee. br br br 'I fear me sair they're failing baith; br For when I sit apart, br They talk o' Heaven so earnestly, br It well nigh breaks my heart. br So, laddie, dinna urge me now, br It surely winna be; br I canna leave the auld folk yet. br We'd better bide a wee.