D’ye ken the cause?— he had nae wife,
An’ that’s a waefu’ want in life;
Sair langed he for the married state,
But cudna court, he was sae blate.
It happened anes in cauld December,
A time he’d ’cassion to remember,
Upon a journey he was gaun,
When fierce the storm begude a blawin’;
Bauld Boreas raged o’er a’ the lift,
His throne thick clouds o’ snawy drift,
John set his bosom to the blast,
Till gloamin’ faded i’ the wast:
Nor house, nor hald could now be seen,
Sma’ pirlin’ drift bedimm’d his een;
Whiles stoitin’ o’er a frosty know,
Neist founderin’ headlang in a how;
Warslin’ frae ae wreath to anither,
John tint his farrach a’ thegither.[1]
But just when he on death was thinkin’,
Gleg in his e’e, a light came blinkin’;
He stendit now, wi’ courage crouse,
Persuaded he would find a house.
Hope aft-times cheats the chiel wha trusts her,
This night for anes, the quean was juster;
- ↑ Tam tint his reason a’ thegither.— Burns.
