Poor Mailie's Elegy

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Poor Mailie's Elegy.

Lament in rhyme, lament in prose,
Wi' saut tears tricklin down your nose;
Our Bardie's fate is at a close,
Past a' remead!
The last, sad cape-stane of his woes; <5>
Poor Mailie's dead!

It's no the loss of warl's gear,
That could sae bitter draw the tear,
Or mak our Bardie, dowie, wear
The mourning weed: <10>
He's lost a friend an' neebor 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, <15>
She ran wi' speed:
A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam nigh him,
Than Mailie dead.

I wot she was a sheep o' sense,
An' could behave hersel wi' mense: <20>
I'll say 't, she never brak a fence,
Thro' thievish greed.
Our Bardie, lanely, keeps the spence
Sin' Mailie's dead.

Or, if he wanders up the howe, <25>
Her livin image in her yowe
Comes bleatin till him, owre the knowe,
For bits o' bread;
An' down the briny pearls rowe
For Mailie dead. <30>

She was nae get o' moorlan tips,
Wi' twated ket, an' hairy hips;
For her forbears were brought in ships,
Frae 'yont the Tweed:
A bonier fleesh ne'er cross'd the clips <35>
Than Mailie dead.

Wae worth the man wha first did shape
That vile, wanchancie thing – a rape!
It maks guid fellows girn an' gape,
Wi' chokin dread; <40>
An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape
For Mailie dead.

O a' ye bards on bonie Doon!
An' wha on Ayr your chanters tune!
Come, join the melancholious croon <45>
O' Robin's reed!
His heart will never get aboon!
His Mailie's dead.



This work was published before January 1, 1925, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.