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DONALD
AND HIS
DOG.
Atween twa hills that tower'd up to the clouds,Clad o'er with heather, bent, and wuds;'Mang rocks, and steeps, and waters falling,Was Highland Donald's humble dwelling.Aroun' his hut, beneath his eye,Fed bout a score o'stirks and key,Whilk, wi his wife and family, wereHis pleasure and pecular care;Amang sic barren heights and howes,Whar grain for food but scanty grows,His family were but sparely fed—Right coarse, and barely were they clad;For he had wi' the laird for yearsHad, 'aginst his will be in arrearsFor whilk he had to thole the snarlAnd threats o' the tyrannic earlTill Donald's independent spirit
