TO LUATH

Well, Luath, man, when you came prancing

All glee to see your Robin dancing,

His partner's muslin gown mischancing

You leaped for joy!

And little guessed what sweet romancing

You caused, my boy!

With happy bark, that moment jolly,

You frisked and frolicked, faithful collie;

His other dog, old melancholy,

Was put to flight —

But what a tale of grief and folly

You wagged that night!

Ah, Luath, tyke, your bonny master

Whose lyric pulse beat ever faster

Each time he saw a lass and passed her

His breast went bang!

In many a woful heart's disaster

He felt the pang!

Poor Robin's heart, forever burning,

Forever roving, ranting, yearning,

From you that heart might have been learning

To be less fickle!

Might have been spared so many a turning

And grievous prickle!

Your collie heart held but one notion —

When Robbie jigged in sprightly motion

You ran to show your own devotion

And gambolled too,

And so that tempest on love's ocean

Was due to you!

Well, it is ower late for preaching

And hearts are aye too hot for teaching!

When Robin with his eye beseeching

By greenside came,

Jeanie — poor lass — forgot her bleaching

And yours the blame!