His billies foond him:
And, bedded then, puir Jeemsie lay,
And a' the nicht and a' the day
Relations cam' to greet an' pray
An' gaither roond him.

Said Jeemsie, "Cousins, gie's a pen,
Awa' an' bring the writer ben,
What I hae spent wi' sinfu' men
I weel regret it;
In daith I'm sweir to be disgrac't,
I've plenty left forby my waste,
An them that I've negleckit maist
It's them'll get it."

It was a sicht to see them rin
To save him frae the sense o' sin,
Fu' sune they got the writer in
His mind to settle;
And O their loss! sae sair they felt it
To a' the toon wi' tears they tell't it,
Their dule for Jeemsie wad hae meltit
A he'rt o' metal!

Puir Jeemsie dee'd. In a' their braws
The faim'ly cam' as black as craws,
Men, wifes, an' weans wi' their mamas
That scarce could toddle!
They grat--an' they had cause to greet;
The wull was read that garred them meet--