To
sink to less wad be to lowse grip o' my past as weel's o' my futur!
An' hoo wad I ever luik her i' the face gien I grew less because o'
her! A chiel' like me lat a bonny lassie think hersel' to blame for
what I grew til! An' there's a greater nor the lass to be
considert! 'Cause he seesna fit to gie me her I wad hae, is he no to
hae his wull o' me? It's a gran' thing to ken a lassie like yon,
an' a gran'er thing yet to be allooed to lo'e her: to sit down an'
greit 'cause I'm no to merry her, wad be most oongratefu'! What for
sud I threip 'at I oucht to hae her? What for sudna I be
disapp'intit as weel as anither? I hae as guid a richt to ony guid
'at's to come o' that, I fancy! Gien it be a man's pairt to cairry
a sair hert, it canna be his pairt to sit doon wi' 't upo' the
ro'd-side, an' lay't upo' his lap, an' greit ower't, like a bairn
wi' a cuttit finger: he maun haud on his ro'd. Wha am I to differ
frae the lave o' my fowk! I s' be like the lave, an' gien I greit I
winna girn. The Lord himsel' had to be croont wi' pain. Eh, my
bonnie doo! But ye lo'e a better man, an' that's a sair comfort!
Gien it had been itherwise, I div not think I could hae borne the
pain at my hert. But as it's guid an' no ill 'at's come to ye, I
haena you an' mysel' tu to greit for, an' that's a sair comfort!
Lord, I'll clim' to thee, an' gaither o' the healin' 'at grows for
the nations i' thy gairden.
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