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For ay the mair I warsl’d roun’ and roun’, I fand my sel’ ay stick the deeper down; Till ance at length, wi’ ae prodigious pull, I drew my poor cauld carcase frae the hole.

Lang, lang, I sought 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, Till chance, at last, convey’d me to a town : There, wi’ a trembling hand, I wrote my Kate A sad account of a’ my luckless fate; But bade her ay be kind, and no despair, Since life was left, I soon wad gather mair; Wi’ whilk, I hop’d, within a twomond’s date To be at hame, and share it a' wi’ Kate.

Fool that I was, how little did I think That love wad soon be lost for fa’t o’ clinh. The loss of fair won wealth, though hard to bear, Afore this—ne’er had pow’r to force a tear. I trusted time wad bring things round again, And Kate, dear Kate ! wad then be a’ mine ain: Consol’d my mind in hopes o’ better luck, But, O ! what sad reverse ! how thunder struck!