Ah! who is she whose tresses wild,
Bespeak her sorrow's frantic child?
'Tis Kate, whose bosom fraught with woe,
...
'Twas at the hour when night retreating,
Bade the screech--owl seek his nest;
Gloomy vapours slow were fleeting,
Morning glimmer'd in the east:
...
O have you seen the blushing rose,
The blooming pink, or lily pale;
Fairer than any flow'r that blows
Was Lucy Gray of Allendale.
...
If you ax where I come frae, I say the fell seyde,
Where fadder and mudder, and honest fwok beyde;
...
Apologies shall sangsters use?
Wae worth the loon wha dare refuse;
I'll chaunt ane aff--hand frae the Muse,
And praise the land we live in:
...
Come into my cabin, Red Robin;
Thrice welcome, blithe warbler to me;
Now Skiddaw has thrown a white cap on,
Again I'll gie shelter to thee:
...
The Norlan blast bla's o'er the hill,
And day's last chearin' glimpse is gane;
Alake! what waes my bosom fill,
For hame or shelter I hae nane!
...
Since to serve a poor Cumbrian Bard is your plan,
Let gratitude shew the great duty of man;
Around you may health, love, and cheerfulness reign,
...
Who made me first, when, where, but few can tell,
Tho' I'm made daily for each beau and belle;
...
Where Irthin rows to Eden's streams,
Thro' meedows sweetly stealin,
Owrhung by crags, hawf hid by furs,
There stands a cwozey dwellin;
...