This page has been validated.


Then farewell Glencowden, tho' destin'd to wander,
Far far from thy covert to yon distant seene;
Long long in my ear shall thy streamlets meander,
And the boughs of thy bushes long wave in thy stream!

Life ay has been a weary roun'.

Ye ay has been a weary roun',
"Whare expectation's bluntet,
Whare hope gets mony a cracket crown,
An' patience sairly duntet.
Alang the road rins hirplin down
Beside neglectit merit,
Whase heart gies mony a weary stoun',
An' broken is his spirit.

But de'il may care, tho' fate whiles glooms,
Gae lassie, heat the water:
Wi' fate we'll never fash our thumbs,
But gar the gill stoup clatter.
Punch is a sea where care ne'er sooms,
But pleasure rides it rarely;
We'll fill again whan this ane tooms,
Then let us set till't fairly.