win's are December's strewin! winds An' coming, naething, Both bitter and keen! now, to big a new ane, O' foggage You saw the green! fields laid An' bleak bare and December's wasted, win's And ensuin, winter Baith snell coming fast, an' keen! And cozy here, beneath Thou saw the blast, the fields You thought laid bare to dwell, an' waste, Till crash! the cruel plough An' weary winter passed comin fast, Out through An' cozie your cell. here, beneath the That small bit blast, heap of Thou leaves and thought to stubble, dwell, Has cost you Till crash! many a weary the cruel nibble! coulter past Now you are Out thro' turned out, thy cell. for all your trouble, That wee Without heap o' house or leaves an' holding, stibble, To endure the Has cost winter's sleety thee monie dribble, a weary And nibble! cold. Now thou's turned out, But little for a' thy Mouse, you trouble, are not alone, But house In proving or hald, foresight may To thole be vain:
win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's win's ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole December's winds coming, Both bitter and keen! You saw the fields laid bare and wasted, And winter coming fast, And cozy here, beneath the blast, You thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel plough passed Out through your cell. That small bit heap of leaves and stubble, Has cost you many a weary nibble! Now you are turned out, for all your trouble, Without house or holding, To endure the winter's sleety dribble, And cold. But little Mouse, you are not alone, In proving foresight may be vain:
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