ORIGINAL POETRY.

Otago Witness, Issue 390, 21 May 1859, Page 5

ORIGINAL POETRY.

TO MY FAITHFUL DOG « DASH." Poor Dash ! thous gettin' auld and frail, Nae niair thou wags thy bushy tail, "Whirliu' 't aroun' like ony Hail About thy rear. Nae mair thou jumps ower ditch and rail Like ony deer. Thou wast the terror o' the kye, When, hafflins hid, thou used to lie Watching the brutes when they cam' nigh The waving corn ; Or when in stooks it stood to dry, When it was shorn. An honest heart beats in thy breast — That's something rare 'mang men at least, Wha look on honour as a jest Or useless folly ; They mair deserve the name o' beast Than thou, poor collie I It's just as weel thou doesna ken The sinfu' airts o' wicked men — How they their consciences can bend To cheat mankind, The same as if their latter end Was just like thine. But, man, if thou couldst only read, I'd let ye see a bonny screed, Wad gar ye cock yer tail and head Wi' pride and grace ; How Poet Burns gied dogs their mead, And proper place. Then thou wouldst read o' noble Cscsar, Wha had a tail like ony beaver — How he at wicked nren's behaviour Gied mony a rug ; I trow he was an unco shaver, To be a dog. And Luath, he was such anither— • He lo'ed biave Caesar like a blither, And often they did crack thegither Sac frank and jolly ; But mourned a world spoiled a' thegither By mankind's folly. The bairns will mourn thee when thou'rt dead, They'll mark the place where rests thy head, And down their cheeks the crystal bead Will sure distil ; Nae mair wi' them thou'lt tak' the lead Oot ow'r the hill. Thou'st had thy time, and thou mun gang Whar days are neither short nor lang. Nae future joy, nae future pang, Hings ow'r thy head — Nae fell account for doing wrang Hast thou to dread. But dogs and men must yield to fate — The gallant heart must cease to beat— The humble clown, the lord o' state, Alike mun gang : Sac you and I must tak' the gaet Before it's lang. John Barr, . South Craigielee