What guid that'll do ye, O Lord, I dinna ken, but I doobtna ye'll dee what's richt, only I wuss I hed never crossed ye i' yer wull.

I kenna what I'm to dee, or what's to be deene wi' me, or whaur ony help's to come frae.
I hae tried an' tried to maister the drink, but I was aye whumled.
For ye see, Lord, kennin' a' thing as ye dee, 'at until I hae a drap i' my skin, I canna even think; I canna min' the sangs I used to sing, or the prayers my mither learnt me sittin' upo' her lap.
Till I hae swallowed a mou'fu' or twa, things luik sae awfu'-like 'at I'm fit to cut my thro't; an' syne ance I'm begun, there's nae mair thoucht o' endeevourin' to behaud (withhold) till I canna drink a drap mair.

O God, what garred ye mak things 'at wad mak whusky, whan ye kenned it wad mak sic a beast o' me ?" He paused, stretched down his hand to the floor, lifted the mug, and drank a huge mouthful; then with a cough that sounded apologetic, set it down, and recommenced: "O Lord, I doobt there's nae houp for me, for the verra river o' the watter o' life wadna be guid to me wantin' a drap frae the boatle intil 't.

It's the w'y wi' a' hiz 'at drinks.

It's no 'at we're drunkards, Lord--ow na! it's no that, Lord; it's only 'at we canna dee wantin' the drink.