6
Ay! thae war day indeed, that gart me hope,
Aeblins, thro' time, to warſle up a ſhop:
And as a wife aye in my noddle ran,
I kend my Kate wad grapple at me than.
O Kate was paſt compare! fie cheeks! fie een!
Sie ſmiling looks ! were never, never ſeen.
Dear, dear I lo'ed her, and whene'er we met,
Pleaded to have the bridal-day but ſet:
Stappet her pouches fu' o' prins and laces,
And thought myſeľ weel paid wi' twa three kiſſes,
Yet ſtill ſhe put it aff frae day to day,
And aften kindly in my lug wad ſay,
“Ae half-year langer is nae unco ſtop,
"We'll marry then, and ſyne ſet up a ſhop."
O Sir, but laſſes words are ſaft and fair!
They ſooth our grief, and baniſh ilka care;
Wha wadna toil to pleaſe the laſs he lo'es?
A lover true minds this in a' he does.
Finding her and was thus ſae firmly bent;
And that I coudna get her to relent,
There was nought left, but quietly to reſign,
To heeze my pack for ae lang hard campaign;
And as the Highlands was the place for meat,
I ventur'd there in ſpite of wind and weet.
Cauld now the Winter blew, and deep the ſna,
For three hale days inceſſantly did fa'
Far in a muir, amang the whirling drift,
Whar nought was ſeen but mountains and the lift,
I loſt my road, and wander'd mony a mile,
Maiſt dead wi' hunger, cauld, and fright, and toil.
Thus wand'ring, caſt or weſt, I kend na where,
My mind o'ercome wi' gloom and black deſpair,
