Oh! mony a turn of woe and
weal
May happen to
a Highlan’ man;
Though he fall in love he
soon may feel
He cannot get
the fancied one;
The first I loved in time
that ’s past,
I courted twenty
years, ochone!
But she forsook me at the
last,
And Duncan then
was left alone.
To Edinbro’ I forthwith
hied
To seek a sweetheart
to my mind,
An’, if I could, to
find a bride
For the fause
love I left behind;
Said Captain Campbell of the
Guard,
“I ken a
widow secretly,
An’ I ’ll try,
as she ’s no that ill faur’d,
To put her, Duncan,
in your way.”
As was his wont, I trow, did
he
Fulfil his welcome
promise true,
He gave the widow unto me,
And all her portion
with her too;
And whosoe’er may ask
her name,
And her surname
also may desire,
They call her Janet[125]—great
her fame—
An’ ’twas
George who was her grandsire.
She ‘s quiet, an’
affable, an’ free,
No vexing gloom
or look at hand,
As high in rank and in degree
As any lady in
the land;
She ’s my support and
my relief,
Since e’er
she join’d me, any how;
Great is the cureless cause
of grief
To him who has
not got her now!
Nic-Coisean[126] I ’ve
forsaken quite,
Altho’ she
liveth still at ease—
An’ allow the crested
stags to fight
And wander wheresoe’er
they please,
A young wife I have chosen
now,
Which I repent
not any where,
I am not wanting wealth, I
trow,
Since ever I espoused
the fair.
I pass my word of honour bright—
Most excellent
I do her call;
In her I ne’er, in any
light,
Discover’d
any fault at all.
She is stately, fine, an’
straight, an’ sound,
Without a hidden
fault, my friend;
In her, defect I never found,
Nor yet a blemish,
twist, or bend.
When needy folk are pinch’d,
alas!
For money in a
great degree;
Ah, George’s daughter—generous
lass—
Ne’er lets
my pockets empty be;
She keepeth me in drink, and
stays
By me in ale-houses
and all,
An’ at once, without
a word, she pays
For every stoup
I choose to call!
An’ every turn I bid
her do
She does it with
a willing grace;
She never tells me aught untrue,
Nor story false,
with lying face;
She keeps my rising family
As well as I could
e’er desire,
Although no labour I do try,
Nor dirty work
for love or hire.