I set me down to pass the time,
And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme,
In hamely westlin jingle. west-country
While frosty winds blaw in the drift,
Ben to the chimla lug, In, chimney-corner
I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift,
That live sae bien an' snug; comfortable
I tent less, and want less value
Their roomy fire-side;
But hanker and canker