; oor cot-folk pit their pain,
i own it's past my prehension.
luath
trowth, caesar, whiles they're fash't eneugh:
a cottar howkin in a sheugh,
wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke,
baring a quarry, an' sic like;
himsel', a wife, he thus sustains,
a smytrie o' wee duddie weans,
an' nought but his han'-daurk, to keep
them right an' tight in tha' rape.
an' when they meet wi' sair disasters,
like loss o' health or want o' masters,
ye maist wad think, a wee touger,
an' they maun starve o&
The Twa Dogs(6/18)