For want o’ comfort to his saul,
On hungry husk.
Now since I’m aff sae mony a mile,
There’s naething got without some toil,
I’ll wait; cross fortune yet may smile,
Come want, come wealth,
I’ll tak’ a pint in the mean while,
To Heilden’s health.
Sae, for a time, friends fare ye weel,
My pot companions, true and leel,