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The Death and Dying Words of Poor MAILIE,
THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE.
An unco mournfu' Tale.
AS Mailie and her lambe thegither,
Was ae day nibbling on the tether,
Upon her cloot she coost a hit,
And owre she warsl'd in the ditch;
There, groaning, dyin, she did lie,
When Hughoc[1] he came doytin by.
Wi' glowrin een, and lifted han's,
Poor Hughec like a statue stan's!
He saw her days were near-hand ended,
But, waes ny heart, he cou'dna mend it!
He gaped wide, but naething spak,
At length poor Mauic silence brak.
O thou, whase lamentable face
Appears to mourn my woeful case,
My dying-words attentive hear,
And bear it to my Master dear:
Tell him, if e'er again he keep
As muckle gear as buy a sheep,
O bid him never tie them mair
Wi wicked strings a hemp or hair,
But ca' them out to park or hill,
And let then wander at their will;
- ↑ A neibour herd-callan.
