O if they had but come to me,
Or yet to Madge, my wife, Sir,
This year's taxation we would pay'd,
To ſav'd their Collie's life, Sir.
My heart was was to ſee the brutes
ſhare fic untimely fate, Sir,
The country ſure muſt be right poor,
when thus they uphold the ſtate, Sir.
There's mony Dngs, I frankly own,
That's uſeleſs for to keep, Sir;
But country Collies uſeful are,
For herding of our ſheep, Sir.
My Collie is an unco beaſt,
And meikle ſenſe he has, Sir,
And when the ſheep ſtrays o'er far aff,
He gi’es them mony a chaſe, Sir.
I canna want my Collie dog,
Mair than meat to my wime, Sir;
For turning either horſe or nout,
He is a hunter fine, Sir.
He never hunts them by the head,
But ay grips at their heels, Sir;
And gathers ſafely a' the flock,
When running thro' the fields, Sir.
He's careful o' the houſe at night,
And when that any ill, Sir,
Is likely for to come on me,
He barks baith loud and ſhrill, Sir.
