Robert Burns Dog Poems

Epitaph On A Lap-Dog

IN wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now, half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.

The Rantin Dog, The Daddie O'T

O WHA my babie-clouts will buy?
O wha will tent me when I cry?
Wha will kiss me where I lie?