poor ailie&039;s elegy
nt rhy, nt prose,
wi&039; saut tears tricklg down your nose;
our bardie&039;s fate is at a close,
past a&039; read!
the st, sad cape-stane o&039; his woes;
poor ailie&039;s dead!
it&039;s no the loss o&039; warl&039;s ar,
that uld sae bitter draw the tear,
or ak our bardie, dowie, wear
the ourng weed:
he&039;s lost a friend an&039; neebor dear
ailie dead
thro&039; a&039; the town she trotted by hi;
a ng half-ile she uld descry hi;
wi&039; kdly bleat, when she did spy hi,
she ran wi&039; speed:
a friend air faithfu&039; ne&039;er ca nigh hi,
than ailie dead
i wat she was a sheep o&039; sense,
an&039; uld behave hersel&039; wi&039; nse:
i&039;ll say&039;t, she never brak a fence,
thro&039; thievish greed
our bardie, nely, keeps the spence
s&039; ailie&039;s dead
or, if he wanders up the howe,
her livg ia her yowe
es bleatg till hi, owre the knowe,
for bits o&039; bread;
an&039; down the bry pearls rowe
for ailie dead
she was nae t o&039; oornd tips,
wi&039; tauted ket, an&039; hairy hips;
for her forbears were brought ships,
frae &039;yont the eed
a bonier fleesh ne&039;er cross&039;d the clips
than ailie&039;s dead
wae worth the an wha first did shape
that vile, wanchancie thg—a raip!
it aks guid fellows girn an&039; gape,
wi&039; chok dread;
an&039; rob&039;s bon wave wi&039; crape
for ailie dead
o, a&039; ye bards on bonie doon!
an&039; wha on ayr your chanters tune!
e, jo the ncholio croon
o&039; rob&039;s reed!
his heart will never t aboon—
his ailie&039;s dead!
草小说