Wi' bickering brattle! hurrying rush
I wad na be laith to rin an' chase thee loath
Wi' murd'ring pattle! plough-staff
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;