It has long been my fate to be thought in the _wrong_, And my fate it continues to be; The wise and the wealthy still make it their song, And the clerk and the cottar agree. There is nothing I do, and there 's nothing I say, But some one or other thinks wrong; And to please them I find there is no other way, But do nothing, and still hold my tongue. II. Says the free-thinking Sophist, "The times are refined In sense to a wondrous degree; Your old-fashion'd faith does but fetter the mind, And it 's _wrong_ not to seek to be free." Says the sage Politician, "Your natural share Of talents would raise you much higher, Than thus to crawl on in your present low sphere, And it 's _wrong_ in you not to aspire." III. Says the Man of the World, "Your dull stoic life Is surely deserving of blame? You have children to care for, as well as a wife, And it 's _wrong_ not to lay up for them." Says the fat Gormandiser, "To eat and to drink Is the true _summum bonum_ of man: Life is nothing without it, whate'er you may think, And it 's _wrong_ not to live while you can." IV. Says the new-made Divine, "Your old modes we reject, Nor give ourselves trouble about them: It is manners and dress that procure us respect, And it 's _wrong_ to look for it without them." Says the grave peevish Saint, in a fit of the spleen, "Ah! me, but your manners are vile: A parson that 's blythe is a shame to be seen, And it 's _wrong_ in you even to smile." V. Says the Clown, when I tell him to do what he ought, "Sir, whatever your character be, To obey you in this I will never be brought, And it 's _wrong_ to be meddling with me." Says my Wife, when she wants this or that for the house, "Our matters to ruin must go: Your reading and writing is not worth a souse, And it 's _wrong_ to neglect the house so." VI. Thus all judge of me by their taste or their wit, And I 'm censured by old and by young, Who in one point agree, though in others they split, That in something I 'm still in the _wrong_. But let them say on to the end of the song, It shall make no impression on me: If to differ from such be to be in the _wrong_, In the _wrong_ I hope always to be. LIZZY LIBERTY. TUNE--_"Tibbie Fowler i' the Glen."_ I. There lives a lassie i' the braes, And Lizzy Liberty they ca' her, When she has on her Sunday's claes, Ye never saw a lady brawer; So a' the lads are wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her! II.