Page:History of Will and Jean, or, The sad effects of drunkenness (1).pdf/24

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Willie, heark’ning, wiped his e'en aye;-- Oh! what sins hae I to rue! 'But say, wha's this angel, Jeanie!' 'Wha,' quo Jeanie, 'but Buccleugh!'

Here, supported---cheered---and cherished Nine blessed months I've lived and mair; Seen these infants clad and nourished, Dried my tears and tint despair.

Sometimes serving, sometimes spinning, Light the lanesome hours gae round; Lightly, too, ilk quarter rinning Brings yon angel's helping pound!

Eight pounds mair, cried Willie, fondly, Eight pounds mair, will do nae harm, And, O Jean, gin friends war kindly, Eight pounds soon might stock a farm.

There ance mair to thrive by ploughing, Freed frae a' that peace destroys, Idle waste and drucken ruin, War, and a' its murdering joys!

Thrice he kissed his lang lost treasure; Thrice ilka bairn--but could nae speak; Tears of love, and hope, and pleasure, Streamed in silence down his cheek.

FINIS.