Perished the Pack.
In the days of my youth when I travelled the kintra,
Bare on my rumple the wearifu' pack;
Frae the east neuk o' Fife to the cauld hills o' Fintry,
Few found me a stranger tho' varied my track.
Guid lodgings I sought when the folk was kind-hearted,
Their Bread and their cheese had a hale heart in act;
And aft before supper sowin pat-scarted?
But these were the days eer I perished the pack.
When young, wild, and wanton, and wooing my Jenny,
How happy was love o'er the loose ca'ing smack;
The green houghs and home, and the water sae bonny.
Was aft times oar walk eer I perished the pack.
I courted my lassie wi' love late and early,
But O the young kimmer she s gi'en me the sack,
And aff wi' anither and jilted me fairly,
And a' my love lost since I perished the pack.
To drink then I flew like a true son of Bacchus,
And swept aff my glass wi' a richt knowing tack;
Could sing a guid sang?tell a tale?raise a farce?
But these were the days e'er I perished the pack.
Wi' women and wine frae the e'en tae the morning,
I ranted and sang till I spent every plack,
When the Beagle was plunderidg wi' Charge and wi' horning,
My all that was left when I perished the pack.
To friendship I turned in my hour of affliction,
But cold was its kindness, and that is a fact;
While keenly I felt the sharp thorn o' conviction,
And thocht on the days e'er I perished the pack.
Alas! for the best o' my frien's and relations,
When fortune forsook me a' turned their back,
And said that they owed me but few obligations,
And bade me adieu when I perished the pack.
We seldom e'er ken wha's our frien's till we need them?
How true is the proverb when siller we lack?
Guid pity the bankrupt, it's few that will heed him
When down the hill broken and perished the pack.
Yes, try your best frien' when your needing to borrow,
When yinst it is known that your fortunes are wrack'd,
A thousand to one but yon will come back in sorrow,
Politely denied when you've perished the pack.
The dark sable coat for the scarlet I changed,
And thought in the wars soon my fortune to make;
But hech I was wrang, when frae hame far a stranger,
For lone, sick, and wounded, and perished the pack.
In the 77th, wi' Ney, Soult, and Jhulet,
I fought under Picton where cannons did crack,
And charged the foe at the point of the bay met,
Where thousands on thousands has perished the pack.
True temperance then joined so endearing,
When fairly despairing and a' looking black,
Grew sober, made siller, got onward careering,
Now credit is mine though I've perished the pack.
But now to conclude, though I've fairly transgressed,
May guid be our prompter to finish life's act,
And make our exit to the land o' the blessed,
Where grace is found free though we've perished the pack.
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