Tho' I maun never have her.
But gang she east or gang she west,
'Twixt Forth and Tweed all over,
While men have eyes, or ears, or taste
She'll always find a lover.
The poet one day was taking a ride through the country on horseback and when he got to the town of Carlisle became thirsty and stopped at a tavern for a drink. He tethered his horse outside in the village green where it was espied by the poundmaster, who took it to the pound. When Burnsie came out he was mad clear through and this is what he wrote:
Was e'er puir poet sae befitted?
The maister drunk—the horse committed,
Puir harmless beast, tak thee nae care,
Thou'lt be a horse when he's nae mair (mare).