Willie: We could have made this a grand farm, I tell you, and you’ll go smuggler-baiting.
[He returns to his bridle-mending.]
Burns: And so you despise me?
Willie: I do not. I’m disappointed in you.
M’Pherson: The land’s good. It ought to do well.
Burns: Willie’s right. I haven’t the character. I love the earth, Andrew, but I’m no master of it. It’s a live thing, and knows it. It’ll only grow songs for me. So I’m for a gauger. It’s best. You and Willie are the ones. (Filling the glasses.) I was never made for firm footing, and if I think I’ll do better in Dumfries, I think I won’t. Make what you can of that, my friends.
[He sings.]
My father was a farmer
Upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me