Chapter 5 No.5

Dark flocks of wildfowl riding out the storm

Upon a pitching sea,

Beyond grey rollers vex'd that rear and form,

When piping winds urge on their destiny,

To fall back ruined in white continually.

And I at our trysting stone,

Whereto I came down alone,

Was fain o' the wind's wild moan.

O, welcome were wrack and were rain

And beat of the battling main,

For the sake of love's sweet pain,

For the smile in two brown eyes,

For the love in any wise,

To bide though the last day dies;

For a hand on my wet hair,

For a kiss e'en yet I wear,

For-bonny Jock was there.