Billy

Among the worthies of this town,
There's yin a leadin' light,
A man of talent and renown,
Of judgement and foresight.
Endowed wi' sense and vision clear,
He follows virtue's path straight,
Respected as the Auctioneer
At Wishaw and Bathgate.

He meddles nane wi' golf or bools,
For such has nae desire,
Though fishin' wi' its varied rules
Attracts him to Dunsyre.
His collie dog, this staunchest freen'
[And Billy was his name],
Aye foremost in whatever scene
Was staged awa' frae hame.

He watched his maister pack his kit
And wagged his bushy tale,
His sense a match for human wit
As wi' him he set sail,
And whether 'mong the Culter hills
Or Medwyn's banks serene,
Had a' the joy and happy thrills
That rats and rabbits mean.

When left alane throughoot the week
For twa, three days on end,
Enjoyment wasn'a far to seek
Wi' duties to attend.
For Billy had a host o' freens,
Baith loose and on the lead,
Some lean, and ithers porky queens
Of every cross and breed.

First, breakfast, ere he did his roon'
And saw his maister gone,
Then paid his veesits through the toon
To see what was gaun on.
And started up the station road
Or up the Kirkton brae,
And treated whuppets to a nod
And trotted on his way.

But monster, fierce Alsatian brutes,
He scorned aquaintance wi' them,
And passed them by wi' certain doots
Pretendin' no' to see them,
But what he sees alang Clyde street
At yince sets up his birse,
And stiff on tiptaes rivals meet
Wi' growls in dooble verse.

Then each put on their sternest glour
And lurid words would say,
And try to guage each ither's power
And sweer what they would dae;
Then sniff and growl in lood disdain
And crave each ither's gore,
Then turn awa' and turn again,
And strone the nearest door. (Urinate [CSD])

But Billy was a sporty beast,
Though he could tak' or gae,
The watchword cherished in his breest
To aye let weel abe.
Of course he had his love affairs
Wi' rivals from afar,
When jealousy maist unawares
Got him involved in war.

And Billy never shirked a fight
Wi' sentiment at stake,
Although at times his wounded plight
Convinced him its mistake.
But as to honest men and rogues,
A limit, time alloos,
The same alike applies to dogs
When age must pay its dues.

And Billy suddenly took ill,
And nocht could him relieve,
Though a' was tried wi' best o' will
To grant him a reprieve.
And spite o' scientific skill,
And kindly nurses care,
Poor Billy wandered doon the hill
To climb again nae mair.

And so he closed his hazel een
Upon a mournfu' Sunday,
And buried on the washin' green
Beneath his maister's winda.
And noo, anither's in his place
And bears the honoured name,
But 'tween them there's a gap o' space
'Tween him and Billy's fame.

For though he's big and braw enough
His metal does'na ring,
As did the rare, true golden stuff
That crooned auld Billy King.
And there we leave him to his rest,
Where warblers chirp aroon,
And jealousy nae mair molest
Or gae his heart a stoon.