Betakes him moodily to sleep.
And "Ah!" he cries, "would I micht be
A clansman kilted to the knee,
Wi' sporran, plaid and buckled shoe,
And Caledonian whuskers too!
Would I could wake the pibroch's throes
And live on parritch and peas brose
And spurn the ling wi' knotty knees,
The dourest Scot fra Esk tae Tees!
For only such, I'll answer for 't,