Page:Watty and Meg, or, the wife reclaimed.pdf/17

 17 And as he struck wi' Sly Donald slipt his arm ajee; And firm the sword stack in the "Ha'e at you now, ye cruel wretch!" Quo Donald, 'I am now your Wi' that he seized him by the Gie'd him a jerk that gart him His Highland blood boiled in a passion He gie'd his Syne drew his cravat round sae tight, That baith, he strangled him maist right. By these means, Donald man'd to mak His hands secure ahint his back. Syne on the he put the Wi's feet tied underneath its belly. The dog whilk Donald mourned fu' A frightfu' sight o' reeking gore; He on ahint the fallow, placed, Across the hurdies o' the beast. Syne Donald's triumph to evince! He mounts his beast as proud's a prince, Brandish'd the sword and dar'd the blade, To move his hands, feet, tongue, or head; That if he did, he warned him now, Up to the hilt he'd run him through. Sae, on the road they trudged alang, And Donald crooned a Highland sang. They reached the town, folks were surprised, The robber soon was recognised; The magistrates there, brawly kent him, For mair than ance he'd been fornent them. For mony years, his deeds o' horror Had kept baith far and near in terror. For whilk, whae'er would apprehend him, And to the nearest prison send him, Would be entitled to regard. And fifty guineas o' reward. Whilk Donald got, in word and deed,