wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
till the last leaf o' the summer is flown;
such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
till my last hope and lastfort is gone.
still as i hail thee, thou gloomy december,
still shall i hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
for sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
parting wi' nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair.