The Highland Plaid (4)/The Way Worn Traveller
THE WAY WORN TRAVELLER.
Faint and wearily the way worn traveller
Plods uncheerily, afraid to stop:
Wandering drearily, a sad unraveller,
Of the mazes t'ward the mountain's top,
Doubting, fearing
While his course he's steering,
Cottages appearing
As he's nigh to drop,
Oh! how briskly then the way-worn traveller
Treads the mazes t'ward the mountain's top.
Plods uncheerily, afraid to stop:
Wandering drearily, a sad unraveller,
Of the mazes t'ward the mountain's top,
Doubting, fearing
While his course he's steering,
Cottages appearing
As he's nigh to drop,
Oh! how briskly then the way-worn traveller
Treads the mazes t'ward the mountain's top.
Though so melancholy day has passed by,
'Twould be folly now to think on't more:
Blythe and jolly he the cag holds fast by,
As he's sitting at the goat-herd's door,
Eating, quaffing,
At past labours laughing;
Better far, by half, in
Spirits than before.
Oh! how merrily the rested traveller
Seems, while sitting at the goat-herd's door.
'Twould be folly now to think on't more:
Blythe and jolly he the cag holds fast by,
As he's sitting at the goat-herd's door,
Eating, quaffing,
At past labours laughing;
Better far, by half, in
Spirits than before.
Oh! how merrily the rested traveller
Seems, while sitting at the goat-herd's door.