The last Dying Words of
BONNY HECK
A Famous Grey-Hound in the Shire of Fife.
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ALas, alas, quo' bonny Heck,
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On former days when I reflect!
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I was a Dog much in respect
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For doughty Deed:
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But now I must hing by the Neck
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Without Remeed.
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O fy, Sirs, for black burning Shame,
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Ye'll bring a Blunder on your Name!
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Pray tell me wherein Im to blame?
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Is't in Effect,
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Because I'm Criple, Auld and Lame?
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Quo' bony Heck.
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What great Feats I have done my Sell
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Within Clink of Kilrenny Bell,
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When I was Souple, Young and Fell
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But Fear or Dread,
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John Ness ahd Paterson can tell,
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whose Hearts may bleid.
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They'll witness that I was the Vier
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Of all the Dogs within the Shire,
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I'd run all day, and never tyre:
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but now my Neck
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It must be streched for my Hyre,
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quo' bonny Heck.
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How nimbly could I turn the Hare,
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Then serve myself, that was right fair!
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For still it was my constant Care
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the Van to lead.
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Now, what could sery Heck do mair,
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syne kill lier dead?
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At the King's-Muir, and Kelly-law,
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Where good stout Hares gang fast awa,
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So cliverly I did it Claw,
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with Pith and Speed:
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I bure the Bell before them a
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as clear's a Beid.
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I ran alike on a'kind Grounds,
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Yea in the midst of Ardry Whines,
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I grip't the Mackings be the Bunne,
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or be the Neck:
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Where nathing could slay them but Guns,
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says bonny Heck.
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I Wily, Witty was, and Gash,
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With my auld Felni Packy pash,
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Nae Man might anes buy me for Cash
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in some respect.
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Are they not then Counfounded fash,
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that hang poor Heck?
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I was a bardy Tyk and bauld,
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Tho' my Beard's Gray, Im not so auld,
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Can any Man to me unfald,
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What is the Feid,
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To stane me ere I be well Cauld?
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a cruel Deed!
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Now Honesty was ay my Drift,
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An innocent and harmless Shift,
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A Kaill-pot-lid gently to lift,
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or Amry Sneck,
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Shame fa the Chafts, dare call that Thift,
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quo' bonny Heck.
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So well's I cou'd play Hocus Pocus
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And of the Servants make Jodocus,
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And this I did in every Locus
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throw their Neglect.
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And was not this a Merry Jocus
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quo' bonny Heck?
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But now, good Sirs, this day is lost,
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The best Dog in the East Nook Coast:
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For never ane durst Brag nor Boast
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me, for their Neck.
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But now I must yeild up the Ghost,
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quo' bonny Heck.
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And put a period to my Talking,
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For Im unto my Exit making:
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Sirs, ye may a'gae to the Hawking,
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and there reflect,
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Ye'l ne'er get sick a Dog for Makin
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as bonny Heck.
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But if my Puppies ance were ready,
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Which I got on a bonny Lady:
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They'l be baith Cliver, Keen, and Beddy;
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and ne'er neglect,
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To clink it like their ancient Daddy,
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the famous Heck.
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