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I cursed mysel’, I cursed my luckless fate, I grat—and sobbing, cried—O Kate ! O Kate !
Frae that day forth, I never mair did weel, But drank, and ran headformost to the diel. My siller vanished, far frae hame I pined, But Kate for ever ran across my mind. In her were a’ my hopes—these hopes were vain. And now—I’ll never see her like again.
’Twas this, Sir President, that gart me start, Wi’ meikle grief and sorrow in my heart, To gi’e my vote, frae sad experience, here, That disappointed love is waur to bear, Ten thousand times, than loss o’ warld’s gear.
