[The scene is supposed to lie on the But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen Thames, near Richmond.] tide Not an ear shall escape my binding But on I went the dreary mile, And sung right cantie a' the while hold, On the furrowed field or jolting | I gae my plaid a closer fauld; My hand was warm, my heart was bauld, road. Oh! the hempseed hath a fair place to fill, With the harvest band on the corncrowned hill. I didna heed the storm and cauld, While ganging to my Katie. But when I trod the same way back, |