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⟨8⟩
My Kimmer is auld, my Kimmer is bent,
And I’m gaun louting owre a kent;
The well o' life is dribbling dry,
And drouthie, drouthie’s Kimmer and I.
HOPE TOLD A FLATTERING TALE.
Hope told a flattering tale,
That joy would soon return;
Ah! nought my sighs avail,
For love is doom’d to mourn.
Ah! where’s the flatt’rer gone?
From me from ever flown;
The happy dream of love is o’er,
Life, alas ! can charm no more.
FINIS.
