Page:Four funny tales.pdf/15



Yet ſtill the put it aff frae day to day, And aften kindly in my lug wad ſay, 'Ae half year langer's no nae unco ſtop, 'We'll marry than, and ſyne ſet up a ſhop.'

O Sir, but laſſes words are faſt and fair! They ſoothe cur griefs, and baniſh ilka care: Wha wadna toil to pleaſe the laſs he lo'es? A lover true, minds this in a' he does. Finding her mind was thus fae firmly bent, And that I cou'dna get her to relent, There was nought left, but quietly to reſign, To heeze my pack for ae lang hard campaign: And, as the Highlands was the place for meat, I ventur'd there in ſpite of wind and weet.

Cauld now the winter blew, and deep the ſna' For three hale days, inceſſantly did ſa'; Far in a muir, amang the whirling drift, Whar nought was feen but mountains and the lift, I loſt my road, and wander'd mony a mile, Maiſt dead wi' hunger, cauld, and fright, and toil. Thus wand'ring, eaſt or weft, I kend na' where, My mind o'ercome wi' gloom and black deſpair, Wi' a fell ringe, I plung’d at ance, forſooth, Down thro' a wreath o' ſnaw, up to my mouth. Clean o'er my head my precious wallet flew, But whar it gaed, Lord kens, I never knew!

What great misfortunes are pour'd down on ſome! I thought my fearfu' hinderen' was come! Wi' grief and ſorrow was my faul o'ercaſt, Ilk breath I drew was like to be my laſt; For ay the mair I warfl'd roun' and roun' I fand myſel' ay flick the deeper down; Till ance, at length, wi' a prodigious pull I drew my poor cauld carcaſe frae the hole.

Lang, lang I fought and graped for my pack, Till night, and hunger forc'd me to come back. For three lang hours I wander'd up and down,