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 Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers, They dwell 'mid the tempests of dark Loch-na-garr.

When first I came to be a man,
 * Of twenty years, or so,

I thought myself a handsome youth,
 * And fain the world would know;

In best attire I stept abroad,
 * With spirits brisk and gay,

And here, and there, and every-where,
 * Was like a morn in May.

I had no care, nor fear of want,
 * But rambled up and down,

And for a beau I might have pass'd,
 * In country, or in town;

I still was pleas'd, where'er I went,
 * And when I was alone,

I turn'd my pipe and pleas'd myself,
 * With John of Badenyon.

Now in the days of youthful prime,
 * A mistress I must find;

For love, they say, gives one an air,
 * And even improves the mind.