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Yet still she put it aff frae day to day,And aften kindly in my lug wad say,'Ae half year langer's no nae unco stop,'We'll marry than, and syne set up a shop.'
O Sir, but lasses words are saft and fair!They soothe cur griefs, 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 mind was thus sae firmly bent,And that I cou'dna 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, east or west, I kend na' where,My mind o'ercome wi' gloom and black despair,Wi' a fell ringe, I plung’d at ance, forsooth,Down thro' a wreath o' snaw, up to my mouth.Clean o'er my head my precious wallet flew,But whar it gaed, Lord kens, I never knew!
What great misfortunes are pour'd down on some!I thought my fearfu' hinderen' was come!Wi' grief and sorrow was my saul o'ercast,Ilk breath I drew was like to be my last;For ay the mair I warsl'd roun' and roun'I fand mysel' ay stick the deeper down;Till ance, at length, wi' a prodigious pullI drew my poor cauld carcase frae the hole.
Lang, lang I sought and graped for my pack,Till night, and hunger forc'd me to come back.For three lang hours I wander'd up and down,
