with critical observations and biographical notices, by Robert Burns

210
^^ Full ninety winters hae I seen,
! ; ;
" And pip'd where gor-cocks whirring flew,
" And mony a day ye've danc'd, I ween,
" To lilts which frae my drone I blew.'*
My Eppie wak'd, and soon she cry'd,
" Get up, Guidman, and let him in
" For weel ye ken the winter night
*' Was short when he began his din.'*
My Eppie's voice, O wow it's sweet
E'en tho' she bans and scaulds awee
But when it's tun'd to sorrow's tale,
O haith, it's doubly dear to me !
Come in, auld Carl ! I'll steer my fire,
I'll mak it bleeze a bonie flame ;
Your blude is thin, ye've tint the gate.
Ye should na stray sae far frae hame.
*' Nae hame have I," the minstrel said, *
" Sad party strife o'erturn'd my ha'
" And, weeping at the eve o' life,
'* I wander thro' a wreath o' snaw.*
• This affecting poem was long attributed to Burns. He thus
remarks on it. " Donocht-Head is not mine : I would give ten
pounds it were. It appeared first in the Edinburgh Herald ; and
came to the editor of that paper with the Newcastle post-mark
®n it."