Here’s the bard with a loyal dog:
And here’s an excerpt in standard English from his tale of two dogs, the Twa Dogs. The full versions in both English and Scottish can be found here.
It was in that place of Scotland’s isle,
That bears the name of old King Coil,
Upon a Lovely day in June,
When wearing through the afternoon,
Two dogs, that were not busy at home,
Chance-met once upon a time.
The first I’ll name, they called him Caesar,
Was kept for ‘his Honor’s’ pleasure:
His hair, his size, his mouth, his ears,
Showed he was none of Scotland’s dogs;
But bred some place far abroad,
Where sailors go to fish for cod.
His locked, lettered, lovely brass collar
Showed him the gentleman and scholar;
But although he was of high degree,
The fiend of pride, no pride had he;
But would have spent an hour caressing,
Even with a tinker-gypsy’s mongrel;
At church or market, mill or smithy,
No matted cur, though ever so ragged,
But he would have stood, as glad to see him,
And pissed on stones and hillocks with him.
The other was a ploughman’s collie,
A rhyming, ranting, raving rollicking young friend,
Who for his friend and comrade had him,
And in his youth had Luath named him,
After some dog in Highland song,
Was made long past – Lord knows how long.
He was a wise and faithful cur,
As ever leaped a ditch or stone fence.
His honest, pleasant, white streaked face
Always got him friends in every place;
His breast was white, his shaggy back
Well clad will coat of glossy black;
His joyous tail, with upward curl,
Hung over his buttocks with a swirl.
No doubt but they were glad of each other,
And very confidential and thick together,
With social nose sometimes sniffed and pried;
Sometimes mice and moles the dug;
Sometimes raced away in long excursion,
And worried each other in diversion;
Till tired at last with many a farce,
They sat them down upon their arse (buttocks),
And there began a long digression
About the ‘lords of the creation’.