"WHA's there?" she ax't. The wan'rers rap
Against the pane the lassie scaur'd:
The blast that bray'd on Slimiss tap
Wad hardly let a haet be heard.
"A frien'," he cried, "for common crimes
'Tost thro' the country fore and aft" -
"Mair lown," quo' she - thir's woefu' times! -
'The herd's aboon me on the laft."
"I call'd," he whisper'd, "wi' a wight
"Wham aft I've help'd wi' han' an' purse;
"He wadna let me stay a' night -
"Weel! sic a heart's a greater curse:
"But Leezie's gentler. Hark that hail!
'This piercin' night is rougher far" -
"Come roun'," she said, "an' shun the gale,
"I'm gaun to slip aside the bar."
Waes me! how wat ye're? Gie's your hat,
An' dry your face wi' something - hae.
In sic a takin', weel I wat;
I wad preserve my greatest fae:
We'll mak' nae fire; the picquet bauld
Might see the light, an' may be stap;
But I'll sit up: my bed's no cauld,
Gae till't awee an' tak' a nap.
James Orr, Bard of Ballycarry