Farewell! since the Season is over,
Ah me, but its moments were sweet!
You are oft', viâ Folkestone or Dover,
To some Continental retreat.
On Frenchman and German you'll lavish
The smiles that can madden me still;
While I, with the gillie McTavish,
Am breasting the heather-clad hill.
Oh, do you remember the dances,