# The Comical Story of Thrummy Cap and the Ghaist/Donald and His Dog

DONALD
AND HIS
DOG.
​Nae langer was resolved to bear it,And hardships was resolved to scorn-As the saying is, 'to mak' a spoon or spoil ahorn.'He shrewd and clever was, I trow;Spak' Gaelic weel, and Lawlan's, too;And, as he was an honest chiel,By as his neighbours liket weel.Ae day-contrivin' what to daeTo keep himsel' aboon the brae-A plan he mudell'd in his head,And thus it down before them laid :-That twa weeks hence in England, thereWad be a great black cattle fair,Whar kye as he learnt frae men o' dealingsGied double price gi'en in the Highlands.Now if, wi' what he could himselSpare safely frae his flock to sell,They wad mak' up a drove amang them,He pledged his word he wadna wrang them,But render, at his comin' back,A just account o'ilka plack;Allowing him for recompenseSome sma' commission and 's expense.On this they quickly greed to gie ​Out o'their flocks some twa, some threeTill a handsonie drove colleekit,And to the south his way direekit.He mounted was upon a pony,A dog his servant was, and crony;And by his side, like ony lord,There hung a braid sheep-headed sword-No as a weaqon o' offence;But, in case o' need, for se'f-defence;For they wha liket, rich or poor,Might wear a sword in days o'yore.Baith ear' and late--baith wat and dry-The dog and Donald drave the kye ;And, after muckle toil and careA' safe and sound they reached the fair.The kye were sald—the price was paid-'Twas down in yellow guineas laid ;The guineas in his purse was sneckit-The price was mare than he expeckit.Whilk raised his heart-and I wat weelHe thought himsel' a elever chiel.Instead o' Donald longin' carelessAbout the fair, to keek at fairlies,Or bouze wi limmers, or to gamble,Or spend his cash in ony ramble, ​He wisely mounts his Highland shelty,And took the road on helty skelty.As he rode on and eraeked his whup,A gentleman came riding up,Wha bade 'Good day,' wi friendly air,And spiered 'if he'd been at the fair?'When Donald, without vain parade,Returned him thanks, and said 'he had;'And a' his business, tap and tail o't,When at the fair, he tauld the hale o't.Right crouse they grew wi' ane anither,And mony stories tauld to ither,Bout kings an priests an' great commanders,The wars in Britain, France, and Flanders.When mony mile's they'd rode in league,They in a hollow reached a brigAcross a burn, that ran wi' easeDown through a glen adorned wi' trees.Now 'twas a bonnie summer's day,When a' the fields were elothed and gay,They stopped, and dropped there tales and jo-kin',Their horses' lowing drouth to sloken,And greed some little time to pass,To let them rest and eat some grass. ​Now, as Donald and his comrade satUpon the green, they resumed their chat;And Donald's dog before their feetLay stretched, and panting wi' the heat-And Donald's sword, which he did carryBeneath his hodden-grey havarry,The Englishman's attention seized,He begged a sight o't, if he pleasedWhilk Donald drew and frankly gave him,In confidence he'd not deceive him.The billy thanked him for the sight o't,Then praised the size the mak, an weight o't.And asked at Donald, on his word,If maist he trusted to the dog or sword,Supposing the case, that any pad,Should demand the money that he had ?' The sword,' quoth Donald, I can wield,And should sic wretch, by road or field,E'er daur demand frae me a shilling,I'd plunged with freedom in the villain ;Yet ne'ertheless, for a' my cracks o't,I wadna gie the dog for sax o't.Wi' this the follow, at the word,Chapped aff the dog's head with the sword;Syne pointed it to Donald's heart, ​And swore he with his eash should part,Or instantly, with stabs and cuts, He'd pierce his heart and rip his guts."O!' says Donald, spare my life,For sake o' my poor weans and wife!Hae, there's the cash; but wi' what shameAnd grief maun I face friends at hame!They'll no believe a word o't neither-Lord help's, we're ruined a thegither!''Stop,' says the fellow, 'cease your crying ;Your friends will not suppose you lying ;They will believe what you say to them,By evidence which you shall give themFrom ever man I rob I've credit,By giving me his hand I did it;My comrades and I together,This token give to one another;So one of your hands must go with meSo take your choice, which shall it be' My dog is gane and darling purse,And now my hand-still worse and worseHae mercy on me "Donald prays,I'll be a beggar a' my days.''No mercy for you, ' cried the wretch;Come down wi't- I'll make quick dispatch ​' Weel then, says Donald, I submit,But ae repuest grant, if it's fit;That is, since my left hand must go,Drive't aff at ae most desperate blow;No on the saft green, there perhapsYe'll pine me sair by several chaps,But ye'll at ance mair sicear do'tOn yonder smooth tree's spreading root.Puir Donald's prayer was heard, he thenMade bare his left hand shackle-bane,And on the tree root laid it quaking;The robber now his aim was taking--Baith hands raised the vengfu' whittle,And, as he drew with awful ettle,Sly Donald slipped his arm a-jee,When firm the sword stuck in the tree.'Have at ye now, ye cruel wretch,'Quoth Donald, 'I am now your match !'With that he caught him by the collar,Gied him a jerk that garred him gollar;Donald's blood boiled in a passion,He gied his face a horrid bashinHis cravate Donald squeesed sae tight,That faith he strangled him maist outright.By this means Douald manued to mak ​His hands secure ahint his back,Syne on the horse he put the billy,His feet he tied beneath his belly;The dog, whom Donald mourned full sore,A frightfu sight of reeking gore,He on ahint the fellow placedAcross the hurdies of the beast.Syne, Donald's triumph to evince,He mounts his horse proud as a prince--Brandished the sword, and dared the bladeTo move his hands, feet, tongue, or head;That if he did, he warned him nowUp to the hilt he'd run him through.Sae on the road they moved alang,And Donald crooned a Highland sang;They reached the town, folks were surprisedThe rober soon was recognized;The magistrates they brawly kent him,For mair nor ance he'd been fornent them.For mony years his deeds of horrorHad kept baith far and near in terror,For whilk, whae'er wad apprehend him,And to the nearest prison send him,Wad he entitled to regard,And twenty guineas of reward, ​Whilk Donald got in word and deed,With honours leaped upon his head.The rober, too got his reward-Stern Justice at him awfu‘ stared;Guilt and remorse his bosom stung,Hence he was tried, condemned, and hung.Bauld Donald soon arrived at hame,Paid aff his laird and ilka claim;Mair o’ him ye’d tire to hear me tell,But he was soon a laird himsel,Yet ne‘er forgot the awfu‘ shock,When his left hand lay on the block.