Yan moonleet neet, at t’ edge o’ dark,
I stump’d about amang my wark ;
I just was crossin’ t’ yard, when – hark !
I stood still as a mouse :
I heard a dog baath growl an’ bark,
I’ t’ paster clooas to t’ house.
Says I, “ A fair haufcrown I’ll bet
Yon’s some ill-bred neet-huntin’ ket,
That’s come up here wi’ dog an’ net –
I’ll see what they’re about. ”
I said na maar, but off I set
To try to find ’em out.
Reight cautiously, wi’ noiseless feet,
I trudged along ower t’ snah that neet,
An’ on a hill, i’ t’ dim moonleet,
I spied a terrier gray ;
An’, when I com into it’s seet,
It bark’d and ran away.
An’ then I spied another thief —
A girt an, too, as fat as beef, –
Says I, “ It is my firm belief
That summat is amiss !
I doubt they’re up to some mischief, —
An’ bless us ! what is this ? ”
Then up I went to t’ wau to peep,
An’ on a snah-drift, cowd an’ deep,
Wi’ fleece au torn, I spied a sheep,
An’ mony a bite did bleed :
Then t’ truth into my mind did creep, —
“ Them dogs hez done this deed. ”
I thowt a bit what mud be done,
Then into t’ house I went for t’ gun,
An’ back as fast as I could run,
An’ t’ dogs were baath at t’ spot, –
Says I, “ I’ll stop yer barb’rous fun –
Ye’s taast a bit o’ shot. ”
Ye sheep ! that roam on hills an’ banks,
To me an’ my good gun give thanks ;
We stopp’d their thievish worryin’ pranks
Wi’ lile round bits o’ leead ;
We med yan stretch his terrier-shanks,
An’ lig amang the deead.
An’ t’ other thief, that com to help, —
That ugly, girt Newfoundland whelp, —
It off as fast as it could skelp. –
Thowt I, “ I’ll mack thee smart. ”
I shot ; it raised an awful yelp,
An’ ran for t’ varra heart.
Wi’ skill, baath times, I hit my mark,
Though it was varra dim an’ dark ;
I think I med a good neet’s wark,
An’ yell na doubt think t’ saam :
I sattled yan his ugly bark,
An’ t’ other’s varra laam.
Ye farmers round about, who keep
Yer Scotland yows an’ hauf-bred sheep,
May gang to bed content, an’ sleep
Without a bit o’ fear :
Na maar amang yer flocks they’ll creep ;
I’ve stopp’d their mad career.