15 When at the fair he tauld the hale o't. Right crouse they grew wi' ane anither, And mony stories tauld to ither. 'Bout kings, and priests, and great com. manders; The wars in Britain, France & Flanders, When mony miles they'd rode, in league, They in a hollow reached a brig, Across a burn, that ran wi' ease, Down through a glen adorned wi trees. Now, 'twas a bonnie summer day, And a' the fields were clad, and gay, They stopt, & drapt their tales & jokin', Their horses lowing drouth to slocken. And greed some little time should pass, To let them rest, and eat some grass, As Donald and his comrade sat Upon the green, they resumed their chat And Donald's dog, before their feet, Lay stretched and panting wi' the heat, And Donald's sword, whilk he did carry Beneath his hodden-grey Bavary, The gentleman's attention seized ; Wha begged a sight o't, if he pleased, Wilk Donald drew, an' frankly gave him; In confidence he'd not deceive him. The billy thanked him for the sight o't, And praised the beauty, size, and weight ot; Syne spiered at Donald, on his word, If maist he trusted-dog or sword; Suppose the case, that ony pad, Should seek the money that he had. The sword,' quo Donald, 'I can wield, And should sie wretch, by road or field, E'er daur demand frae me a shillin', I'd plung't wi' freedom in the villain. Yet ne'er the less for a' my cracks o't. I wouldna gie my dog for sax o't.' Wi' that, the fallow, at a word, Chapt aff the dog's head wi' the sword,
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