And vainly ye barkit, For still they stuck to you And still they come bummin' Like legions o' deils, So like a wise dowg then Ye took to your heels. R Ye paid for your knowledge, As I've often done, And then had the wisdom Sic company to shun; But I was not always Made wiser by pain, For I've sinned and I've suffered Again and again. When folks cam for siller And I'd nane to gie, Ye kent them, auld Towser, Ye showed them your tusks, ye Were ill, ill to please, Oh, the limbs of the law are Faur waur than the bees! How you and wee Cri Would fondle and play, And jink roun the haystack At fun o' your ain, Till I've wished that I were A wee laddie again. And when that he murmured, No, naething could tempt you To leave his bedside; Ye sat, sad and silent, By nicht and by day, And, oh! how you moaned when They bore him away. Tho' some folks may ca' ye A useless auld brute, Yet, Towser, as lang's ye Can hirple about, my bite wi' ye I'll share All silent in death, 'neath Its bonnie green shade ; And aft by the ingle, They'll ca' you to min', And dear thochts shall aye roun' Your memory twine. EPISTLE TO WILLIAM SMITH, TEACHER. DEAR BILL, I know you love to scan Man and his mystic nature, And well I know thou'rt quick to see, And yet I doubt that like mysel, But O! how very short's the way, That wisdom can us carry, The wisest hae enough to do, And whiles mair hampert to get through, Than either Dick or Harry. |