Turned seaward ever a watchful eye,
And his shaggy ears were pricked to hear
The plash of oars, as the boat drew nigh.
Skye, of Skye, when they leaped ashore,
Greeted the crew with a joyful cry—
Kissed their hands, and trotted before
To the inn that stood on the hilltop high.
Within, was the porter sound asleep—
They could almost hear his lusty snore:
Then Skye, of Skye, with an antic leap,