Classic Poem

THE HORSE'S COMPLAINT .

" A H ! what a wretch'd unlucky corse
" Am I! " cries a poor hireling horse:
" Toil'd a' the day quite aff my feet,
" With little time or ought to eat:
" By break of day, up frae my bed
" Of dirt I 'm rais'd to draw the sled,
" Or cart, as haps to my wanluck,
" To ca' in coals, or out the muck;
" Or drest in saddle, howse, and bridle,
" To gallop with some gamphrel idle,
" That for his hiring pint and shilling,
" Obliges me, tho' maist unwilling,
" With whip, and spur sunk in my side,
" O'er heights and hows all day to ride;
" While he neglects my hungry wame,
" Till aft I fa' and make him lame;
" Who curses me shou'd ban himsell,
" He starv'd me, I with faintness fell.

" How happy lives our baron's ape!
" That 's good for nought but girn and gape,
" Or round about the lasses flee,
" And lift their coats aboon their knee;
" To frisk and jump frae stool to stool,
" Turn up his bum, and play the fool;
" Aft rives a mutch, or steals a spoon,
" And burns the bairns' hose and shoon:
" Yet while I 'm starving in the stable,
" This villain 's cock'd upon the table,
" There fed and rees'd by all around him,
" By foolish chiels, the pox confound them! "

" My friend, " says a dowse-headed ox,
" Our knight is e'en like other folks:
" For 'tis not them who labour maist
" That commonly are paid the best:
" Then ne'er cast up what ye deserve,
" Since better 'tis to please than serve. "