Big Stag

Each Highland forester doth brag
That he hath seen a mighty stag,
But sportsmen they do think it strange,
He never comes within their range.

But the keeper, Donald McKay,
Says he saw it just the other day,
And though gents can’t it, dihcover,
It is there the same, whatever.

The last I saw of wondrous stag,
He was grazing near yon crag,
In company with hia dear doe,
They seemed to love each other so.

And playful sporting on the lawn,
’Long side of them their bonnie fawn;
I loved to see the creatures play,
From them I scarce could turn away.

My heart grew tender, I did lag
So long I could not shoot the stag,
And forest still he yet adorns,
With magnificent head of horns.

But I do fear some fatal day.
That some pot-hunter will him slay,
Who would be heedless of the woe
And sorrows of the fawn and doe.