1783
death and dyg words of poor ailie, the author&039;s only pet yowe, the
an un ournfu&039; tale
as ailie, an&039; her bs thegither,
was ae day nibblg on the tether,
upon her cloot she ost a hitch,
an&039; owre she warsl&039;d the ditch:
there, groang, dyg, she did lie,
when hughoc he ca doyt by
wi&039; glowr een, and lifted han&039;s
poor hughoc like a statue stan&039;s;
he saw her days were near-hand ended,
but, wae&039;s y heart! he uld na nd it!
he gaped wide, but naethg spak,
at ngth poor ailie silence brak
“o thou, whase ntable face
appears to ourn y woefu&039; case!
y dyg words attentive hear,
an&039; bear the to y aster dear
“tell hi, if e&039;er aga he keep
as uckle ar as buy a sheep—
o, bid hi never tie the air,
wi&039; wicked strgs o&039; hep or hair!
but ca&039; the out to park or hill,
an&039; let the wander at their will:
ay his flock crease, an&039; grow
to sres o&039; bs, an&039; packs o&039; woo&039;!
“tell hi, he was a aster k&039;,
an&039; aye was guid to an&039; e;
an&039; now y dyg char i gie hi,
y helpless bs, i trt the wi&039; hi
“o, bid hi save their harless lives,
frae dogs, an&039; tods, an&039; butcher&039;s knives!
but gie the guid w-ilk their fill,
till they be fit to fend thesel&039;;
an&039; tent the duly, e&039;en an&039; orn,
wi&039; taets o&039; hay an&039; ripps o&039; rn
“an&039; ay they never learn the gaets,
of ither vile, wanrestfu&039; pets—
to slk thro&039; sps, an&039; reave an&039; steal
at stacks o&039; pease, or stocks o&039; kail!
ay they, like their great forbears,
for ony a year e thro the shears:
wives will gie the bits o&039; bread,
an&039; bairns greet for the when they&039;re dead
“y poor toop-b, y
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