'Ithout a single e'thly friend.
But soon wi' Harwood back behind,
An' out o' zight an' out o' mind,
We went a-rottlèn on, an' meäde
Our way along to Brookwell Sleäde;
An' then we vound ourselves draw nigh
The Leädy's Tow'r that rose on high,
An' seem'd a-comèn on to meet,
Wi' growèn height, wold Dobbin's veet.