All language subtitles for Greyfriars Bobby The True Story of a Dog 1961 H.264 MP4 by winker@kidzcorner-1337x.en

This is the true story of a dog
who lived almost a century ago.

His monument stands in Scotland's
capital city of Edinburgh to this day,

commemorating his devotion
to an old man whom he loved in life

and guarded for 14 years
after death had parted them.

He made happier the lives of a whole
generation of children who knew him.

This is his story.

Jock, where's Bobby?
Will you listen to his barking?

- Good morning to you, master.
- Morning, Jock.

Bobby's in the barn hunting rats, Elsie.

Take him into the house.

He'll not come for anybody
but old Jock, father.

Aye, he'll come for me.
Bobby!

Down, Bobby.

You come to me
as if you belong to me.

But he'll know he's yours, Elsie,
if you take a wee bit of trouble with him.

Bobby boy. Shall I give you
some breakfast, eh?

Aye, do that, lassie.

- Well, Jock, are you ready to go now?
- Aye.

I have my things.

It wasn't a bad year for the lambing,
master. I can see that.

And young master Wattie
has learned the way of it now.

Aye, you taught him well enough.

Take Bobby into the house.
Jock and me are away to Edinburgh.

To the market.

Whist, laddie!
You're not coming this time.

Go with your mistress
and hold your noise.

Wattie! Open up the gate, will ye?
Come on, boy.

Come on, boy.

Put him in Jock's old seat
in the corner.

Maybe he'll keep quiet there
and stop his grieving.

Mother? Why did old Jock not take Bobby
to the market with him?

Give him a bowl of broth.
Keep him quiet.

Is Bobby really my own dog now,
to do what I like with?

- Aye. He's yours.
- And old Jock will not mind it?

Bobby! Come back!

Bobby, where you going?
Bobby, come back!

Bobby! Bobby! Come back!

Bobby! Bobby! Wattie, stop him!

Stop him, Wattie!

Bobby, come back.
Bobby! You naughty dog! Come back!

Jock, I'm no' happy about you goin'
from Cauldbrae. You know that.

Aye. I'm not happy myself, master.

Well, times are very hard, Jock.
I just cannot afford ye, that's all.

I'm no' blamin' ye, master.

I been a shepherd now for 60 years.
It will no' be so hard to find another place.

I did no' tell the bairns
you wouldn't be coming home with me.

- I could no' tell them.
- No.

It would serve no purpose.

Giyup, boy.

Hello, there!

Steady, boy.

I'm a minute slow by gun time.

How do you get used to the crack of it?
My head nearly jumped off.

I'd like to pay you
for two weeks, Jock.

I'll not take a shilling
I haven't earned.

Well, if you want.

There's no more to be said.
Thank you.

- I'll be goin' on my way.
- Aye.

Goodbye, then, Jock.

Good luck to you.

Come on, you silly boy.

You little imp! Go on.
Get down there. Get down!

Get out of here!

You did no' have to glare at me,
Mr. Traill.

Glare at the dog, jumpin' on my lap
and howling like a banshee.

You're in his master's usual place
for dinner on market day.

What's wrong, Bobby? You're usually here
bang on time with the 1:00 gun.

And you're all muddy and panting.
Where's old Jock?

No, old Jock's not here, Bobby.
Go find him.

I'd take my hand to the wee dog
for dirtying me like that.

If I did that to everyone who dirties up
the place, I'd have my work cut out.

Have you seen the shepherd body
from Cauldbrae, Jock, in the market?

Aye, just after time gun,
but I have no' seen him since.

It's the first time in years
he has no' come to me for his dinner.

Yet his wee dog was here.

Give it back!

Get away!

How did you get here?

You should no' be with me.
You should be home.

You should be home at Cauldbrae.

You'll have the wee Elsie
grievin' for you.

Have a wee drink. Come on.
At least have a drink.

That sounds like Bobby.

Aye, I'm coming.

I'm not staying in the kirkyard yet.

Just give me a chance to get my breath.

You're as great a scold
as the wife I never had.

Is that you, Bobby?

Here. What is it, Bobby?
Did you find...

So you found him.
All right, I'm coming.

Jock! Jock, man, what ails ye?

Man, you're sick.
And you're wet too. Here.

Come on. Come over to my place.
Give me your arm.

Come on, Jock. Take off your coat and
plaid and set down here by the fire.

Here. Give me the bag.

- Here.
- Aye, I'm wet.

- It's a misty night.
- Misty?

It's raining like a torrent.
And ye call it misty!

If Noah himself
had been a Lowland Scot,

he'd have said the deluge
flooding the world was...

Just fair wet.

Was not the deluge fair wet,
Mr. Traill?

- Have you had your supper yet, man?
- No, no' yet.

But don't bother yourself, Mr. Traill.

I'm bothered as it is,
so do not make it worse by arguing.

Bobby, stop that. I'm no' in need
of a shower in the house, thank ye.

Nor yet a pattern of dirty feet.

Aye, he's talking to you.

Here now. Eat!

You were always a hospitable man,
Mr. Traill.

And pray, how many market days have
you spent your sixpence eating here?

I'm thinking of nothing more than to
warm you up so you'll come again.

Do no' thank me for that!

You're fortunate that that's
a very intelligent wee dog you have.

He was here at the time gun
searching for you.

Man, you're ill.

You're very ill.

Stay here and eat your food.
I'll go and get a doctor for ye.

No! I'll not see a doctor.

You need of a dose of physic and a bed
in the infirmary until you're right.

No!

The infirmary's for poor people
that are dying.

No man leaves the infirmary alive.

Jock, that's no' true.

I go there myself
if I so much as cut my finger.

- Let any student laddie bind it up for me.
- It only proves you're soft.

- But not me!
- All right now, calm yourself.

Nobody's gonna make you do
what you don't wish.

Now eat your broth.

Bobby. Bobby, come here.

Where are ye?

He's over at my library
in the corner there.

- He's so smart he likes to read.
- No, he can't read, Mr. Traill.

I can't read myself.

That's a lot of books you've got there,
Mr. Traill.

You must be a very serious man.

Aye. I am that.
And books are wife and bairns to me

and as good company as that wee beast
is to yourself.

Here, Bobby. I'm thinkin' you've not had
very much to eat today yourself, laddie.

Here. There.

He's a good wee beast,
this Bobby of yours.

- You must be very proud.
- Aye, but he's not my own dog.

- He's not mine at all.
- Man, he's fair fond of you.

A dog chooses his own master.

Aye, but he can't choose.
He's got to go home.

I can't say that it won't be sad parting,
but he's got to go.

I must get word to Cauldbrae,

so they can come and take him home.

Bobby, now you lie still there
and mind old Jock.

I have to fetch the doctor to him.

I'm all right. I'm quite well.

Don't let a doctor see me.

You're very sick, Jock.
It's the only thing!

Now you stay here.

They'll not take me to the infirmary.

Come on, Bobby.

What am I to do with you, laddie?

I can get a lodging in here,

but the old woman that
runs it will not take a dog.

What's that you're saying?

Aye, you're a canny wee dog.
You're right.

I've carried newborn lambs in the pocket
of my plaidie, so why not you, eh?

Very well. In you go, laddie.

I want a bed for the night
if you have one free.

- Free, is it?
- No, I didn't mean it that way.

I've been here before, you know.

So you have, so you have.

I mind you. You're the one
they call old Jock.

Here's the money for my bed.

And a farthing for the light.

Has the front room at the top
of the stairs got anybody in it?

No, no. Nobody there.

That cough you have.

If you wake your neighbours with it,
you'll need to fight it out for yourself.

I know all about that.

Whist now, laddie.
Ye may well smell rats in here, but...

Whisht!

We're above the old city smell up here.

It was worth the climb, eh, Bobby?

I left a wee something here
a few months back.

Aye! It's here yet.

A posy of heather, laddie.

And not dead.

You can almost smell the moors in it.

Can you not?

What do you say, Bobby?
Will we pretend we're out there now?

Come on then. Beg for your supper.

That's it. A good laddie.

Down now, down.

Up, boy. Good.

Die for your country now.

That's a good laddie.

Jump!

Loup!

Who's got a dog in there?

Laddie. What's all the noise about?

I thought I heard a dog myself!

Quiet, or they'll throw you out.

In the devil's name, hold your row
or I'll fetch the constable to you!

I'll not hear you fightin' in my house.
Hold your row!

You see what an old fool old Jock is?

I have a bible for my comfort,
and I cannot read.

My father gave it to me
when he lay dyin' in his croft.

It's the only thing I've got.

A book I cannot read.

And a fool dog that's not my own.

I must get to sleep now.

And you, too, laddie.

Lie quiet now.

- Good day, Mr. Traill.
- Good day to you.

Did you find anything
about that old shepherd?

He has no' been found and taken
to the infirmary or to the lockup.

- I know for certain.
- I did no' understand it.

He can no' have gone far,
and I'm fair worried about him.

But I tell ye, if ye see a wee bit
of a Skye terrier running loose,

the old man will no' be far,
so keep your eyes open.

- I've got better things to do.
- And so have I!

I pay my taxes where your wages
come from, so mind your manners!

Morning, Mr. Traill.

Here. Just a minute.

If you see a wee Skye terrier,
a wee grey dog, near the market,

tell me, and I'll give ye a penny.

- A penny? A whole penny?
- Each?

Aye. But off you go. Away with you.
See what you can find.

Here, how many more is there up there?

Is there more of you
still skulking up there?

I can charge you the whole day
if you're still there at the time gun!

Do you no' hear me?

Are ye in there?

Can you no' hear me?

Were ye that sick?

Hey, some of ye down there!
Any of ye! Go and get the police.

Go on with ye!

Run! Go on! Run!

He died of pneumonia, and of being old
and just plain worn out.

You see?
The old man dies a natural death.

Nobody's harmed him.
He's not been robbed.

Hold your noise, woman.

It's something strange to find a decent old
country body in a foul place like this.

This is a clean, respectable house.

- Who was he?
- Old Jock. He'd no name but that.

His name was John Grey.

There's enough
to give him a decent burial.

- He'll no' have a pauper's grave.
- Right. I'll see to it.

There's no' enough to hire a carriage.

He'll have to rest
in the nearest kirkyard.

Now clear out this room, all of you.
Not you, Campbell.

What's that dog doin' here?

Whose dog is it? The old man's?

- No, no. He didn't have any dog.
- Aye, he did so.

I heard the dog barkin'.

Aye, that's true.
There was a dog barking.

It's my duty to take him
to the police station.

He's got no collar,
and for all I know, no licence.

Come here now, my laddie.

"'I am the resurrection
and the life,' saith the lord."

"'He that believeth in me,
though he were dead, yet shall he live."'

"'Whosoever liveth and believeth in me
shall never die."'

"We therefore commit his body
to the ground."

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust."

"Which thy well-beloved son
shall then pronounce

on all that love
and fear thee, saying:

"'Come ye, blessed of my father."'

"Inherit the kingdom prepared for you
from the foundation of the world."'

"Grant this, we beseech thee,
o merciful fa..."

"Through Jesus Christ, our mediator
and redeemer. Amen."

Amen.

- Good night to ye both.
- Good night.

It's past time for lockin' up.

What are you doin' there?
Be off wi' you! Go home.

Go on! A kirkyard's no place for a dog.

There now. Go on wi' you.
Go on home. Out of here!

Go on! Away wi' you!

- Ailie!
- What is it?

There's the wee dog
Mr. Traill's lookin' for.

- Where?
- There!

Catch him,
and we'll get a penny.

There he is, Ailie. Run!
Do no' lose him.

- Thank you.
- Hope you enjoyed it.

- Aye.
- Thank you.

- What do you think you're doing?
- Out of my way.

Mr. Traill. Mr. Traill?
We found the wee dog.

Where have ye been, Bobby?
The time gun bring you for your dinner?

Where's old Jock, laddie?
What have ye done wi' him?

Whisht, Bobby.

What is it then? Is it old Jock?

- Well, where is he?
- Mr. Traill, do we no' get the penny?

Later, child, later.
Do no' bother me now.

What's a dog doin' in here, anyway?

Throw him out.
He's shakin' with sickness.

No, man, he's hungry.
And an old customer.

Which is more than ye are yourself.

Out ye go. Come on now. Get out.

Here, Bobby. Come on now.
What about eating, eh?

- Did you get the penny, Ailie?
- No. No penny.

I wish I knew where ye came from,
Bobby, and where ye left your master.

Now, Bobby, be a good dog,
and let's go and find old Jock.

Here, Bobby! Wait! Here!

You want to lead me
through the old kirkyard, laddie?

Wait. The gate's no' locked yet.
It's only latched.

Who's that at the gate?

Mr. Traill, what in the world are you doing
prowling about the kirkyard?

It's time for lockin' up.

- I followed a wee dog here, Mr. Brown.
- Dog?

There's no dog here.
It is no' permitted.

I just let him in myself.

- You let a dog in the kirkyard?
- Aye.

Eh, then I'll have the law on ye!

You're supposed to be
such a learned man.

Can you no' read the regulations?

Those regulations are no' the law of the
land, James Brown, and ye know it.

You made up those rules yourself.

I'll have no dog in Greyfriars kirkyard.

- You know that! Yours or anybody else's!
- The dog is no' mine.

But I'll make a bargain wi' ye.

I'll take him home wi' me,

and you can keep your regulations.

And I will too.

I caught and put out one dog last night,
and he's no' been back.

And I'll catch this one, too, mind ye.

Come on.

Now then, you go that way,
and I'll go here.

Here, dog. Here.
Where are ye? Dog!

Here, dog. Here.

Bobby.

- Ailie!
- Who's there?

Mr. Traill, it's you.

- The wee dog that was at my place.
- Aye.

Tammy and me chased him there.
You didn't give us our penny.

Whisht, Ailie!
Now listen to me a minute.

- For a penny I'll listen.
- For a silver shilling listen.

- A shilling?
- If you see the wee dog again...

And he's not far away, I'm thinkin'.
Call him "Bobby" and fetch him to me.

- You or any of you bairns.
- Aye.

The one that brings him
will get a silver shilling.

Have ye taken leave of your senses?

I'll have every bairn in the
neighbourhood climbing over my kirkyard.

And half of them are
like wild beasties as it is.

- No' with me, they're not.
- No, because you're soft wi' 'em.

I'm no' soft wi' any living thing.

A bairn's like a dog in many ways.

Take a stick to one or the other
and he'll misbehave the worse.

The bairns around here are poor
and neglected.

But they're no' vicious.

Get on the right side of them
and you'll live easier.

Wait a minute. You say there was
a dog here yesterday?

Aye, wi' a funeral.
And creeping about here afterwards.

- Whose funeral?
- An old man named John Grey.

Dead of pneumonia
in a lodging house.

Pneumonia?

Aye, that'd be it.

Carried here by a bunch
of jailbirds as you never did see.

And no mourners.

John Grey you say his name was.

I knew him as old Jock.

And if the wee dog was with him,
he had a mourner, all right.

Poor old man.
I drove him to his death.

- What are ye saying, man?
- He came to me sick.

I said he should be in the infirmary
and went for a doctor.

But he went away,
an old sick man in the rain.

- Where's he buried?
- Over here.

That's where they laid him down.

What's that?

Bobby. Here, laddie. Come here.

There.

Come out now. I'll fi...

You have him, huh?

That's the dog I put out before.

Aye. The old man was his master.

Be that as it may,
the dog's no' staying in my kirkyard.

And it's past time
for lockin' up.

Can he no' bide here till he's claimed?

No, he cannot.
It's against the regulations.

Then you put him out.
You and your regulations.

For I can no'.

Good night to ye, Mr. Brown.

There. Now he's out.

And good night and good riddance
to the pair of ye.

Jamie, what on earth were ye doin' out
there in the dark, man?

Administering the law.

What James Brown says
in Greyfriars kirkyard is the law.

Now what are we gonna do, laddie?
Ye can no' get in there now. It's locked.

Face up to the fact:
You can no' get in.

Why don't you come home with me,
laddie? I'm not a bad man to live with.

Will you no' come?

What's all the disturbance about?

- Quiet!
- Whisht, Bobby.

Mr. Traill, have ye taken to
a dog at your time of life?

- I would if he'd only take to me.
- Then keep him in order.

How do ye expect my customers
to read enough to satisfy their examiners

if they're disturbed
by all this barking?

You'll stop that dog's noise
or I'll send for the police.

Geordie Ross!

- Yes, Mr. Traill?
- Geordie, I have a problem.

Would you like to earn a sixpence?

A sixpence?
Aye, I would.

Then it's yours... if ye know a way
to smuggle this dog into the kirkyard.

- And never mind why.
- Well, there might be a way.

- And you're the man who knows how?
- Aye.

Give me the sixpence.

Aye, ye like me now you're gettin'
your way, don't ye?

Here. And, Geordie,

if ye say a word about this to anyone,
I'll gi' you a good lickin'.

I will no' tell, Mr. Traill.
I'll be very discreet.

- And that's the whole story.
- Dear.

Nay dog will be permitted in Greyfriars
kirkyard as long as I'm caretaker here.

Good afternoon. There's not much left
to eat, I'm afraid. It's after 2:30.

I've had my dinner.

I'm lookin' for a dog,
and I was directed here.

A dog?

I'm from Cauldbrae.
The dog belongs to my bairn.

He ran away to follow an shepherd
body that worked for me.

- Old Jock?
- Aye. You know him?

It was no' right of him
to win that dog away from my bairn.

Old Jock's dead, mister.

- Dead?
- Aye, of pneumonia.

And buried these four days since
in old Greyfriars kirkyard.

Greyfriars? Well, that's o'er grand
for a shepherd body, isn't it?

Aye, but no' so grand as heavenly.

Oh, poor old Jock.

I shouldn't have let him go,
but I had no choice.

I didn't realise he was that sick.
If I'd known...

Well, he's dead.

Maybe there's others to blame.

The dog's been here every day since.
He's sleeping off his dinner.

That's Bobby, all right.
That's Jock's plaidie he's sleeping on.

I bought it from the keeper
of the lodging house he died in.

He looks well-fed too.

- You've been good to him.
- If you think I want to keep...

You could, if it was up to me,

but my bairn's grievin'
her heart out for him.

It's best he should go, in any case.
He'll have none of me.

He eats here, but he lives in the old
kirkyard where he's no' permitted.

That hard to catch.

- Take him away.
- Aye, I'll take him.

- He'll have a home.
- Hold him close. He'll no' like goin'.

Come on, Bobby. It's me, it's me.

Thank you, mister.

Here.

Wrap him in the plaidie.
It'll hold him firm.

And take him now. I'm busy.

- Giyup. Go on.
- Did you find Bobby, Father?

Aye, I've got him here in the cart.

Whoa, boy. Whoa.

- Take him away, Wattie.
- Right, Father.

Just you settle down in here, laddie.
That's right.

Now make him a bed out of that straw,
Elsie. That's right.

- Underneath there.
- Poor Bobby.

Bide here. I'll come for you
in the morning.

You'll have to feed him
and lead him on a rope for a wee while,

but leave him in here
until he's used to it.

Now come on, lassie.

Bye-bye, Bobby.

Now you've got Bobby back.
Away to bed.

Here, lassie. Take Jessie with you.

- Off you go now.
- Good night.

- Did you find him with old Jock?
- No. Old Jock is dead.

- Dead?
- Dead of pneumonia, poor old soul.

But you know what?
He's buried in Greyfriars itself.

Old Jock among the lairds and ladies?
That's over grand for him.

Well, his grave's nigh
to the martyrs' monument.

And you know, wee Bobby there
slept on it every night.

And hid from the caretaker,
for it's strictly forbidden.

He's got no respect
for the law.

It's that dog.
And how did he get back?

I'll put a stop to this.
John Traill told me a wicked lie.

- Mr. Traill?
- Aye, he said the dog had been took away.

So there you are. So you're back.
And how did you get back?

Don't be lookin' so pleased
with yourself.

You're breakin' the law of trespass.

And look at him.
All mud and tangled hair.

Like an old fishwife from Cowgate itself.
And just as useless.

No' useless, Jamie.
See what he's done?

Four great rats he's killed.

You're a brave wee dog.

Laddie! Look at that.

He's going out, and staying out,
if I have to take him to the police myself.

He's killed his own weight in vermin.
Look here, and over there too.

You know well
how they pester the kirk.

I'm no' saying
he's no' a bonny fighter.

But he's still breakin' the law.
And there's only one thing to do with him.

Aye. There is only one thing to do.

And we'll do it right now.
We'll give him a good wash.

A good wash? Have you taken leave
of your senses, woman?

I'll do no such thing.

And when he's dry, Jamie Brown,
he'll be needing his breakfast.

He looks fair thin.

Breakfast now, is it?
A bit of liver and suchlike, no doubt.

And a serving maid to wait on him.

Hold your grumbling.
I'll get him some scraps.

There now. Stop your strugglin'.

A trespasser. That's what you are.

No dogs permitted.
That's the rule.

You'll no' beguile me
because, doggie, you're going out.

Out! That's where you're goin'.

He's a bonny wee thing.
Ya cannot deny that, Jamie.

I was wishing you did no' have
to send him away.

I have my duty to the minister
and the kirk authorities.

I will no' discuss the matter.

There's no rule against
his living here wi' us.

Wi' us?

Woman, I'll have no dog in my house.

He'd be company for me...
for us, Jamie.

Man. You used to say
yourself years ago

that a dog could be
as much company as a bairn.

Aye. And make just as much noise.

Bobby, come here. I have work to do.

You're no' beguiling me.

Now then. There you are.
Rat killin' and all.

Look, "No dogs permitted" is the rule.
So out you go. Away with ya.

Run along. Go on with ya! Aye.

Come along, girls.
And this, girls, is Greyfriars kirkyard,

the last resting place
of many distinguished people

who have helped to shape
the history of Scotland.

Open the gates, caretaker.

And mind, girls,
not to tread on the grass.

Aye. Back a wee bit then.

And good riddance.

Jessie, Hamish, where ya going?

- Ailie, come.
- What?

It's the wee dog.

Come on!

It's him, I think.

- He looks clean and brushed.
- But it's him all right.

He won't be easy to catch
when Mr. Brown's around.

No. We'll never catch him.

Whisht! All of ya!

Mr. Traill will give us
a shilling if we do.

Now remember, he told Ailie,
so listen here to me.

I'll go to the front gate
and keep Mr. Brown talking

while you climb the wall
and catch the wee dog.

- Thank you, caretaker.
- You're welcome, ma'am.

- Good day.
- Good day, ma'am.

Good mornin', Mr. Brown.

- What do you want?
- Why are the gates closed today?

To keep out bairns and dogs
that make a disturbance.

I don't know what you're up to,
but do no' hang around my gates.

No bairns from the tenements
in my kirkyard.

- I will no' have them.
- Aye, I can see that.

Catch him, Ailie!

Out of here.

Out of there, all of ya!
How did that dog get in here? Come on.

Oh, my goodness!
Out!

I never... Aye.
You're a lot of blackguards.

Come away in.
It is no' locked.

- We brought you the wee dog.
- Aye, we caught him.

- Where did ya find it?
- Sittin' in the kirkyard.

He wasn't hiding.
He was sittin' on a stone.

Like he was livin' there.
You told Ailie to bring him here.

How did ya get back, Bobby?
And when?

And, man, you're all clean and brushed.

Can it be you're no' hungry?
Shall we see?

- Do we get the shilling, Mr. Traill?
- In a minute.

Mr. Traill must be rich, Tammy.

- Here. Bobby.
- Aye.

Now, Bobby, come on. Here.

I said a shilling for finding him,

and a shilling it is... amongst six of ya:
It's a tuppence each.

He's givin' the wee dog chicken.

Real chicken?

To a wee dog.

Ailie, go and lock the street doors.

Aye, lock them.
I'm no' open for customers yet.

I was gonna have my own dinner first.

As I can't eat alone,
we'll have a picnic.

What's a picnic?
Isn't that some kind of a cake?

No, laddie. It's... well, when you have
a whole lot to eat and ya share it.

Picnics are for summer
when ya eat outdoors.

No, Tammy! It's like I said. You can have
a picnic at any time at all.

Here. I'll show you.

I've forgotten yours.

Here. There you are.
Go on! Into the kitchen.

Do no' stand with your mouths open.

Serve six dishes of the chicken stew
on the corner table there.

Mr. Traill's got so much dinner
he can't eat it all himself.

Come on now. Set yourselves down.

Mind your manners. Come on.

Ailie, pass the bread.

Chicken! Jings! I've never eaten it.

Bobby! You've finished.
You're just in time to join the picnic.

Malcolm! I said mind your manners.

Tammy. Say grace.

For what we are about to receive...
Amen.

- I didn't hear you.
- I was no' speakin' to you.

Eat.

Tammy. It's just like the tales
ya make up in your head.

- Aye, it is.
- Does he make up tales?

Aye. And he can read too.

Can he now?

Aye! Like how he saves
the queen from drowning

and we all get invited to a banquet
at her castle...

Stop it, will you?
It's just foolishness, Mr. Traill.

Aye. And about him having grown
two new legs to run about on.

Foolishness like that.

Tammy. We shall have
to take you to the infirmary.

I've many good friends there.
Doctors that eat here.

If they canno' give ya new legs,

they can give ya a pair of crutches
that are the next best thing.

Eh, Bobby?

Come on, Bobby.
We're no' wanted here.

Get on with your work.

Have ya ever had bread that's soft
like this and not hard?

Well, I'm glad you came back, Bobby.
Though I don't know how you did it.

And I wish you'd stay with me.

I'm not a bad man to live with.

And I'm sick and tired o' livin' alone.

I even envy old Jock.

For having someone
to grieve over his going.

You think I'm a fool, don't ya?
Well, everybody knows that.

That's no' so bad.

You're somethin' foolish yourself, laddie.

He's no' comin' any more.

I'm no' heedin' ye.

You're a fool dog.

You've good fire and good company.
And it's bitter cold out there.

Stop that noise down there!

All right. All right.
But you're a pest of a dog.

Now I'll have to go
wi' ya to the kirkyard.

You'll no' get in there now.
It's locked.

So you've come back.

You can wag your fool tail.
Keeping me waiting here in the cold.

Well... come in, ya wee fool.

Good evening, Mr. Brown.
I thought there was a strict regulation

against dogs in the kirkyard.

Aye, there is. The dog will sleep
in my house the night, if that concerns you.

He'll no' sleep in anybody's house.

No' in yours maybe.

But my wife, Jeanie, has taken a fancy
to the dog. And he to us.

Aye. We found him this morning
all covered with mud and tired out.

- We washed him and he's grateful.
- And I feed him.

And bring him
into the kirkyard at night in the cold

and against the law.

The dog will sleep in my house
every night.

And you've no need to bother
feeding him any more, Mr. Traill.

The wee dog has turned to us.

So good night to ya.

Bobby! Here! Where're ya off to?
Come here, boy!

So there ye are.

Now you come to my house or out you go.

Ya canno' be living there.

I told you that.

If ya come into the house,
you can sleep before the fire.

But you canno' sleep here, laddie.

You see, I'll lose my job.

Thank ya, Bobby.
That's a good boy.

Because I want ya
to come to the house.

Whisht! Hold your tongue!

Ya never know who your friends are.

Man or dog.

Jamie, are ya there?

- Has the wee dog come back?
- Aye, he's come back.

But no' to us.

Come on, Bobby. That's a good boy.

Can none of you bairns
leave my dog alone?

- He's not your dog.
- He lives here!

He's at Mr. Traill's as much as here,

and out playin' with us
even more than that.

- Bobby's a very independent dog.
- More big words, is it?

They tell me that you're now
at Heriot's Grand school.

A boy like you from the tenements.

Mr. Traill persuaded
the master to take me.

Mr. Traill does a lot of interfering
into other people's affairs if you ask me.

Why would he want to get a bairn
like you into such a fine school?

He said my legs'll never be good,

so I have to learn to make
a livin' with my head.

Well, then, don't waste your time
playin' with dogs.

Be off with ya!

Tammy, bring Bobby out to play!

- Aye, I'll bring him.
- Whisht! Whisht!

This is a kirkyard.
Have ya no respect, ya young heathen?

Just goin', Mr. Brown.

Remember, don't bring that dog back
covered with mud to foul my kitchen.

Did ya hear me?

There's Bobby.

Are ya comin' to play with us?

Come on, Bobby!

What with Traill and the bairns,
the dog belongs to nobody.

Good riddance to him.

- Are ya talkin' to me, Mr. Brown?
- No, I was not.

- I was talkin' about yon wee dog.
- Aye!

I've been watchin' that dog runnin'
about the streets here for a long time.

But he's too quick.
I've never been able to catch him.

Catch him? For what?

Why? Is he your dog? Are you keepin'
a dog in the kirkyard, Mr. Brown?

He's no' my dog.
But why would you want to catch him?

He's got no collar.

Maybe he's got no licence.
And that's against the law.

Aye. And we all know
that the law of Scotland

couldn't last another day
without you, Mr. Maclean.

If he's no' your dog, whose is he?

I would no' know.

But why don't you ask Mr. Traill?

He seems to know everything
about everybody here in Greyfriars.

Aye. Ask him.

Mr. Traill.

Good afternoon to ya, Davie.

And how are you?

Finish with your tables, lassie.
He's no' come for you.

So you've got a wee dog here now,
John, eh? I did no' know.

Maybe there's still a few things
you don't know.

The wee dog's a customer o' mine.

- I'm not here for jokes.
- Away, man. Do no' be so pompous.

I'm here in the line of duty.

Are you Mr. John Traill?

What ails ya? You know my name
as well as you know your own.

It's a formality of the law
to make you admit your identity.

Here's a bit paper for ye.

You're summoned to appear before the
magistrate of the burgh court tomorrow,

to answer a charge of owning
and harbouring one dog,

upon which you have not paid
the licence tax of seven shillings.

Mind you, if the seven shillings
were to be paid in before tomorrow,

the charge would not be pursued.

Who says I own or harbour a dog?

I can use my eyes, can't I?

- Can ya use your head?
- Yes, I can!

I've been watching that dog
for a long, long time,

and now just this week
there's new rules about dogs in the city.

And you think you'll force me
to pay the licence for him?

And I think I know
who's behind all this:

That old fool in the kirkyard,
James Brown.

I'll see to this right away.
So you can take yourself off!

- You mean you'll pay?
- No!

Then you'll present yourself
to the court tomorrow.

Mr. Traill, what does it mean?
Is it no' a joke?

It's no joke at all, lassie.

The municipal court of Edinburgh
is very important.

The Lord Provost sits on the bench
when it's his turn to do so.

It's a serious matter.
And I have calls to make.

You and the laddie do your work
while I'm away.

Bobby! You come with me.

Mrs. Brown, I... I wish to have a word
with your husband...

...on a matter of business.

I'm afraid he is no'
very well today, Mr. Traill.

He's sleeping in his bed.
Can I give him a message?

No. It's a very particular matter.

I'll attend to it myself.

Hadn't you better take your dog inside?

Bobby! Bobby, my wee... my wee bairn.

Case against John Traill.

Is Mr. Traill in court?

I'm here.

John Traill, you are the landlord
of Traill's dining rooms in Greyfriars place.

I certainly am.
And everybody here knows I am.

You are required merely to admit
your identity. Read the charge.

You have been summoned here to answer
the charge that you, John Traill,

are harbouring a dog,

unlicensed and stray, in contravention
of the new orders and powers

invested in the burgh police
to apprehend such animals.

Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

- Not guilty.
- Very well. Call Sergeant Maclean.

I swear by almighty God
to tell the truth, the whole truth,

nothing but the truth, so help me God.

Sgt. Maclean, the deposition you made
to this court is correct in every particular.

Yes, sir.

I followed the said dog into Mr. Traill's
place and saw the said dog eating there

and being sheltered by the accused,

who did not deny the presence
of the said dog.

There's an awful lot of "said"
about this wee dog.

Did he no' say anything to you?

Order.

You will confine your observations
to the bench.

Are you denying
the sergeant's statement?

I'm no' denying the fact that he saw
that wee dog on my premises.

- Aye, that's what I said.
- The dog is not my dog.

I'm no' his master.
He does no' sleep under my roof.

Who is his master
and where does he sleep?

His master's in his grave
in old Greyfriars kirkyard

He sleeps on the mound.

Jim, wake up. This might be a story.

Do you mean to tell this court
a dog could sleep in the open,

all through the winter, in a graveyard?

This one has. He's a Skye terrier,
with a coat as thick as a roof thatch.

Have you any witnesses to prove
a ridiculous story?

The caretaker of the kirkyard, like
myself, has been a friend of the dog,

and no doubt would be pleased
to tell Your Honour so,

but for the misfortune he's so sick,
he can no' leave his house.

But no doubt, if necessary,
his deposition could be taken.

Do the Greyfriars kirk authorities
know about this?

I've been to inform the minister,
Dr. Lee.

But he's no' in Edinburgh.
He's away in France... for his health.

There are no witnesses
who are not in poor health.

Aye. Half a hundred children
in the tenements there

see him every day and have made
a great pet of the wee dog.

If you regard them
as competent witnesses.

Though most of them are over young.

Mr. Traill, are you being impertinent?

Certainly not! You asked me for witnesses
that Bobby sleeps in the kirkyard.

I don't know if you've consulted
a lawyer about this charge...

I think I've a good enough tongue
in my head to be my own lawyer.

Your tongue is certainly long enough,
Mr. Traill.

If this dog is ownerless it will
have to be taken up with the police.

- That does no' seem fair to me.
- Fair, sir? Fair? That is the law!

Masterless dogs have become
a nuisance.

Unless this dog's licence is paid,
it will be put away.

Now, sir, are you prepared to pay?

Or am I to make out an order
for this dog to be taken?

It's not a matter of seven shillings
for a dog's licence.

- This is a matter of principle.
- Principle? What principle?

I am no' responsible
for what is not my own!

The dog is no' with me for more
than two hours out of the 24.

The rest of the time he's
in the kirkyard working.

- Working?
- Aye, working!

He's employed in the kirkyard
killing vermin and the like,

that the caretaker, Mr. Brown,
is no' able to do for himself.

Order!

- You refuse to pay this licence.
- On a matter of...

Kindly don't interrupt!

Apart from the licence,
there is something else.

You are guilty of harbouring a stray
without reporting it to the police.

The minimum fine of five shillings
will be imposed.

If I pay the licence against my principles,
the fine will no' be imposed?

- Yes.
- In that case, Your Honour,

I shall appeal against your decision

to the other magistrates
and then to the Court of Sessions!

The high judiciary have more important
business than reviewing small matters.

It's no' a small matter for me

to be entered into the burgh
court's records as a lawbreaker!

If I refuse to pay the licence
but continue to feed the wee dog

you'll hold me in contempt of court.

- If you're asking for information...
- I'm making plain my line of conduct.

But you're asking me to let a wee dog
starve for a little technicality.

Order! Silence!

Mr. Traill, are you defying this court?

Certainly not, Your Honour.

You deny ownership of this dog.
Yet you bring no witnesses.

No witnesses, Your Honour.

But by your leave,
I'd like to say this: Davie,

the next time you're near
my dining rooms, come in,

and let the dog you're persecuting
gi' you a lesson in manners.

Bobby at least has never bit
the hand that feeds him.

But you have, Davie.

And you've had many
a free meal from me.

Silence!

Mr. Traill, on your own admission,
you are guilty

of harbouring a stray
without reporting it.

You will, therefore, present yourself here,
and bring the dog with you,

at half past eight of the clock
before this court goes into session.

Can't I appeal?

Half past eight of the clock
here tomorrow morning.

Step down if you please, Mr. Traill.

Hey there, lassie.

Did ya ever give a wee dog a good wash?

You mean Bobby, Mr. Traill? No.

But Tammy sometimes washed him
for Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown's in poor health I'm told.

So there's no chance of Bobby
getting washed again

until the sickness is all gone.

But I want him washed, Ailie.
He has serious business ahead of him.

- He has?
- Aye. Very serious.

Bring him here clean and brushed
at 8:00 in the morning.

Are ya takin' him somewhere, Mr. Traill?
Is it a picnic?

Aye, I'm takin' him somewhere, lassie,

but it's no' a picnic.

It's a serious matter...

...of principle.

But you've done your work. Off you go.
Now go away home.

We're right on time, Mr. Traill.
We washed and combed him.

Aye. He looks a picture. Here.

Here's a penny for each of you.

Ailie, you can give Tammy some
of the porridge cookin' on the fire.

But where ya takin' Bobby, Mr. Traill?

To see someone of importance, laddie.

But I will no' take ya tied, Bobby.

Here. There's me boy.

Come on.

Come on now. There's a boy.

Hello, Ailie.
You're workin' for Mr. Traill now?

Aye. For a whole week now.

Did Mr. Traill tell you
about the burgh court yesterday,

about him and the wee dog?

No. Why?
He's just takin' Bobby with him now.

Aye. To see someone of importance.

That's just his way of putting it.

He's taking Bobby to stand before
the burgh court as he was ordered to.

Take Bobby? Why?

If a dog has no master
to pay his licence,

the police pick him up
and put him out of the way.

What?

Mr. Traill will no' pay
because Bobby's not his.

How much are they wantin'
for the license then?

- Seven shillings.
- Seven shillings!

But that's a fortune.

Aye. But I canno' stop here talking.
I'm over late for work.

Seven shillings to allow
one wee dog to live.

Not anybody... Not even Mr. Traill
ever had seven shillings all at once.

I have the penny Mr. Traill just gave me.
How much have you, Tammy?

Seven shillings is 84 pennies,

168 ha'pennies...

and 336 farthings.

There's more folk around the kirkyard
than farthings and seven shillings.

Yes, Ailie, but they're over poor.

But, Tammy, we have to get it.
Mr. Traill has gone to give him up.

He was wearing all his good clothes
and a long face to go to Bobby's burial.

Not if we can get the money first.

Tell everybody, Ailie,
everybody you can find.

And I will too.
Every bairn in Greyfriars, Ailie. And run!

Have you any money to save
the wee dog's life?

I'm looking for Traill, the case
with the dog. Have you seen him?

You canno' go in there
until the court is in session, at 9:00.

- I'm a member of the press...
- Orders from the Lord Provost.

The Lord Provost isn't
listed to be here today.

I think I'd better wait.

Many would say
this is no' much of a case

for the Lord Provost
to bother his head about.

I must be the judge of that, Mr. Traill.

Sgt. Maclean has the prisoner
in custody, I see.

Now, the points at issue
are very simple.

Do you give food and shelter to this dog?
And do you own him?

- Let's take the first point first.
- Aye, I lodge him.

I've always fed the wee dog.
Ever since...

I've always fed him,
I'm no' denyin' it.

Why did you? If he is not your own?

Well, at first, to ease my conscience,

because I blame myself
for the death of the wee dog's master.

You said "at first." What then?

I've courted the wee terrier
for a long, long time since then

because I have nobody of my own.

But he'll have none of me.
Except he's friendly and polite.

He just grieves
for the old man that's dead.

The law says the dog
must have an owner.

And I canno' claim to be that,
Your Lordship, because it's no' true!

I canno' believe the law would make
a man abandon his principles and lie

or take the life of a dog for a matter
of a few shillings and a piece of paper.

The law deals with facts,
not with emotions, Mr. Traill.

The dog is ownerless...

...and unlicensed.

Is there a case
about a wee dog in there?

- You canno' go in there.
- You see? I told you.

My husband and I are witnesses
in the case. Is it in there?

Here! You canno' go in there!

We are the dog's owners, sir.

Begging your pardon, Your Lordship,
but that's right.

James Brown! You're telling a lie!

He's the caretaker of the kirkyard,
that's so sick at home in bed.

Constable, let these two witnesses in.

And no one else. You stay outside.

- Your name?
- James Brown, Your Lordship.

- You claim ownership of the dog?
- Aye, we do.

We've come to pay the licence.

My wife has the money here in her purse.

We heard about the dog
bein' taken up and...

Yes, Mr. Brown.
You're claiming ownership. In that case...

That's no' the case at all, Your Lordship!
James Brown is not the owner of the dog!

If I pay for him, I am.

You have no legal right
to Bobby any more than I.

Mr. Brown.

Does the dog sleep under your roof?

Well...

No, Your Lordship. No' at night.

No, I canno' say that.
He sleeps in the kirkyard.

With the minister's permission,
of course?

Well, no, Your Lordship,
I canno' say that.

This is but a wee dog that holds its gab,
and it's very respectful.

Aye, and he's only been there
such a short time, Your Lordship,

For some months, Mr. Brown.
The minister told me himself.

The minister knows?
He told Your Lordship?

He was told by the bible reader
at the funeral.

Then by the minister at Cauldbrae
where the dog once lived.

And might live now. If you had not fed him
every day to keep him here.

The folks at Cauldbrae did not license him,

or there'd be no charge
for the lack of it.

I'm paying for Bobby's licence myself,
John Traill.

Ye'll do no such thing, James Brown.

In all my life, I've never surrendered
a principle before, Your Lordship.

The charge is on me, and I'll...
I'll pay it.

I feel I must point out to you both

that the dog sleeps
under neither of your roofs,

so belongs no more to one
than to the other.

I was summoned to license him
and be his owner.

- And I will.
- But I asked first!

You are thinking more of winning
an argument than winning the dog.

A dog needs a home.
But it needs love too.

That more than anything.

Your Lordship, do ya think
he does no' get that?

Because he most certainly does.

No' only from me and my wife,
but from every child in Greyfriars.

They feel he's one of them.

Your Lordship, do no' send him away
from the kirkyard.

For many of the bairns in Greyfriars,
Bobby is the only love they know.

What are you bairns doin' in here?

Come on. Out you get.
Go on! Go with ye. Out!

Mister, we're lookin' for
Greyfriars Bobby.

And Mr. Traill that brought him here.

Get out now.
Young savages in the burgh court!

- Have ya taken leave of your senses?
- Look for yourselves!

- Your Lordship!
- Silence. Close the door.

Look! He's not dead.

Will it be all right now, Mr. Traill?

I've got the money for a licence
in my bonnet, Mr. Traill.

Is it you I pay, mister?

It's seven shillings
if you wish to count.

But where did you bairns get
all this money from? And how?

Everybody around the kirkyard gave it,
to pay the police not to make Bobby dead.

I gave a farthing, Mr. Traill.

Near every bairn we asked.
I gave a penny.

Everybody gave something.

Whisht!

Have ya no respect for where ya are?
In the great burgh court.

- Whisht!
- Mr. Traill, hand the dog up here.

Answer me this, any of you:

Do you know what to be
given the freedom of the city means?

Tammy would know, sir.
He's a scholar at Heriot's school... now.

It's when the queen comes, mister,

and you give her the keys to the
burgh gates that are no longer here.

Right, laddie.
The gates and walls are down.

But we still give the keys to visitors
who are grand or wise

or just useful out of the ordinary.

Like the Duke of Wellington
and Miss Florence Nightingale.

Yes. The brave and faithful.

Now here's a wee dog
that's been faithful out of the ordinary.

For a dead man he loves,
he's gone hungry and been cold.

He has never forgotten him
or left his side by night.

Do the police
have to take him?

If he is made free of the city,
he can wander where he likes.

What would Bobby do with keys?

"Greyfriars Bobby,
from the Lord Provost! Licensed."

Ailie, that's the Lord Provost himself!
And I called him "mister."

If dozens of children who know him

will bring seven shillings
in farthings and pennies for him,

they buy the right for the dog to live
in care of them all

in the kirkyard of Greyfriars.

But he must have a collar,

so all the police will know him

and never take him up
for a masterless dog.

He belongs to all of you.

And all of you
are responsible for him now.

You're free, wee man.

Off you go.

Bobby's free!

Hey, wait! Wait for me!

Get away, Bobby.

Is the wee dog the regimental mascot
there, Corporal?

That's Greyfriars Bobby, sir.
He belongs to the city.

- Have you not heard of him?
- Why, of course. So that's him?

- Hello, Bobby. How ya doin'?
- Bobby, how are ya?

I'm sorry the door wasn't open,
but I had my hands full.

Come on.

Down here.

Good night to ya, Bobby.

Bobby. Almost shut ya out.

I must never do that again.

Will ya no' come in?

What for?

To have a wee dram
with Jeanie and myself.

Come.

Good night to ya, Bobby.

Good night, Bobby.

- Good night, Bobby.
- Good night to ya, Bobby.

- Good night, Bobby.
- Sleep well.

See ya in the mornin'.

Good night, Bobby.

Good night to ya, laddie.