This said, poor Mailie turn'd her head,
An' closed her een amang the dead! [eyes]


POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY

Lament in rhyme, lament in prose,
Wi' saut tears tricklin' down your nose, [salt]
Our bardie's fate is at a close,
Past a' remead; [remedy]
The last sad cape-stane of his woes-- [cope-stone]
Poor Mailie's dead!

It's no the loss o' warl's gear [worldly lucre]
That could sae bitter draw the tear,
Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear [downcast]
The mourning weed:
He's lost a friend and neibor dear
In Mailie dead.

Thro' a' the toun she trotted by him;
A lang half-mile she could descry him;
Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him,
She ran wi' speed:
A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him
Than Mailie dead.

I wat she was a sheep o' sense, [wot]
An' could behave hersel wi' mense; [manners]
I'll say't, she never brak a fence