THE wind may blaw the lee-gang way

And aye the lift be mirk an’ gray,

An deep the moss and steigh the brae

Where a’ maun gang —

There’s still an hoor in ilka day

For luve and sang.

And canty hearts are strangely steeled.

By some dikeside they’ll find a bield,

Some couthy neuk by muir or field

They’re sure to hit,

Where, frae the blatherin’ wind concealed,

They’ll rest a bit.

An’ weel for them if kindly fate

Send ower the hills to them a mate;

They’ll crack a while o’ kirk............