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Come in, auld carle, I'Il steer my fire,
I'll mak it bleeze a bonnie flame,
Your bluid is thin, ye've tint the gate,
Ye should na stray sae far frae hame.

Nae hame hae I, the minstrel said,
Sad party-strife o'erturn'd my ha';
And, weeping, at the eve of life,
I wander thro' a wreath o' snaw.


O Nannie, wilt thou gang wi' me,
Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town;
Can silent glens have charms for thee,
The lowly cot, and russet gown?
Nae langer drest in silken sheen,
Nae langer deck'd wi' jewels rare,
Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene,
Where thou wast fairest of the fair?

O Nannie, when thou'rt far awa,
Wilt thou not cast a look behind?
Say, canst thou face the flaky snaw,
Nor shrink before the warping wind?
O can that saft and gentlest mien,

Severest hardships learn to bear,