"
_Lu._ "They're no sae wretched's are wad think;
Tho' constantly on poortith's brink,
They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight,
The view o't gies them little fright....
The dearest comfort o' their lives,
Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives:
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a' their fire-side....
That merry day the year begins,
They bar the door on frosty win's;
The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream,
An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam;
The luntin' pipe an' sneeshin-mill
Are handed round wi' right good will;
The cantie auld folks crackin' crouse,
The young anes ranting thro' the house--
My heart has been sae fain to see them
That I, for joy, hae barkit wi' them!"...
By this, the sun was out o' sight,
An' darker gloamin' brought the night:
The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone,
The kye stood rowtin' i' the loan;
When up they gat, an' shook their lugs,
Rejoic'd they were na _men_ but _dogs_;
An' each took aff his several way,
Resolv'd to meet some ither day.
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