While winds frae aff Ben Lomond blaw
And bar the doors wi' driving snaw
And hing us owre the ingle
I set me down, to pass the time
And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme
In hamely westlin jingle
While frosty winds blaw in the drift
Ben to the chimla lug
I grudge a wee the Great-folk's gift
That live sae bien an' snug
I tent less, and want less
Their roomy fire-side
But hanker, and canker
To see their cursed pride...