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Out o'their flocks some twa, some threeTill a handsonie drove colleekit,And to the south his way direekit.He mounted was upon a pony,A dog his servant was, and crony;And by his side, like ony lord,There hung a braid sheep-headed sword-No as a weaqon o' offence;But, in case o' need, for se'f-defence;For they wha liket, rich or poor,Might wear a sword in days o'yore.Baith ear' and late--baith wat and dry-The dog and Donald drave the kye ;And, after muckle toil and careA' safe and sound they reached the fair.The kye were sald—the price was paid-'Twas down in yellow guineas laid ;The guineas in his purse was sneckit-The price was mare than he expeckit.Whilk raised his heart-and I wat weelHe thought himsel' a elever chiel.Instead o' Donald longin' carelessAbout the fair, to keek at fairlies,Or bouze wi limmers, or to gamble,Or spend his cash in ony ramble,
