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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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