University of Virginia Library

CANTO II.

BARD.
The Supper Sowin-Cogs and Bannocks
Stood cooling on the Soles of Winnocks,
And cracking at the westlin Gavels
Auld Wives sat beeking of their Navels,
When Jouk his Brither Bristle found,
Fetching his Evening Wauk around
A Score of Ploughmen of his ain,
Who blythly whistled on the Plain.
Jouk three Times congeed, Bristle anes,
Then shook his Hand, and thus begins.

BRISTLE.
Wow, Brither Jouk, where hae ye been!
I scarce can trow my looking Een,
Ye'r grown sae braw; now Wierds defend me,
Gin that I hadna 'maist miskend ye.
And where gat ye that braw blew Stringing
That's at your Houghs and Shouders hinging?
Ye look as sprush as ane that's wooing,
I ferly, Lad, what ye've been doing.

JOUKUM.
My very much respected Brither,
Should we hide ought frae ane anither,
And not, when warm'd with the same Blood,
Consult ilk ane anithers good;
And be it kend t'ye my Design
Will Profit prove to me and mine.

BRISTLE.
And, Brither, Trouth it much commends
Your Virtue thus to love your Friends;
It makes me blyth, for aft I said
Ye was a clever mettl'd Lad.

JOUKUM.
And sae, I hope, will ever prove,
If ye befriend me in my Love:
For Rosie, bonny, rich and gay,
And sweet as Flowers in June or May,
Her Gear I'll get, her Sweets I'll rifle,
If ye'll but yield me up a Trifle.
Promise to do't, and ye'se be free
With ony Thing pertains to me.

BRISTLE.
I lang to answer your Demand,
And never shall for Trifles stand.

JOUKUM.
Then she desires as a Propine
These Bonnets Bawsy's Yours and Mine;
And well I wat that's nae great Matter,
If I sae easily can get her.

BRISTLE.
Ha, ha! ye Judas, are ye there,
The D--- then nor she ne'er get mair.
Is that the Trifle that ye spoke of!
Wha think ye, Sir, ye make a Mock of?
Ye silly mansworn Scant-of-Grace,
Swith, let me never see your Face.
Seek my auld Bonnet aff my Head!
Faith that's a bonny ane indeed!
Require a Thing I'll part with never,
She's get as soon the Lap o'my Liver.
Vile Whore and Jad, the Woody hang her.

BARD.
This said, he said nae mair for Anger,
But curs'd and ban'd, and was na far
Frae treding Jouk amang the Glar.
While Jouk with Language glibe as Oolie,
Right pawkily kept aff a Toolie,
Well masked with a Wedder's Skin,
Altho he was a Tod within.
He hum'd and hae'd, and with a Cant
Held forth as he had been a Saint,
And quoted Texts to prove we'd better
Part with a sma' Thing for a greater.

JOUK.
Ah Brither! may the Furies rack me,
If I mean'd ill, but ye mistak me:
But gin your Bonnet's sick a Jewel,
Pray gie't or keep it, Sir, as you will,
Since your auld fashion'd Fancy rather
Inclines till't than a Hat and Feather.
But I'll go try my Brither Bawsy,
Poor Man, he's nae sae daft and sawsy,
With empty Pride to crook his Mou,
And hinder his ain good like you;
If him and me agree, ne'er doubt ye,
We'll mak the Bargain up without ye;
Syne your braw Bonnet and your Nodle
Will hardly baith be worth a Bodle.

BARD.
At this bauld Bristle's Colour chang'd,
He swore on Rose to be reveng'd;
For he began now to be flied
She'd wile the Honours frae his Head.
Syne with a stern and cankard Look
He thus reprov'd his Brother Jouk.

BRISTLE.
Thou vile Disgrace of our Forbeers,
Wha lang with valiant Dint of Weirs,
Maintain'd their Rights 'gainst a' Intrusions
Of our auld Faes the Rosycrucians,
Do'st thou design at last to catch
Us in a Girn with this base Match,
And for the hading up thy Pride,
Upon thy Breether's Riggings ride?
I'll see you hang'd and her thegither,
As high as Haman in a Tether,
E'er I with my ain Bonnet quat,
For ony borrow'd Beaver-Hat,
Whilk I, as Rosie takes the Fikes,
Maun wear, or no, just as she likes:
Then let me hear nae mair about her,
For if again ye dare to mutter
Sic vile Proposals in my Hearing,
Ye needna trust to my forbearing;
For soon my Beard will tak a Low,
And I shall crack your crazy Pow.

BARD.
This said, brave Bristle said nae mair,
But cock'd his Bonnet with an Air,
Wheel'd round with glooming Brows and muddy,
And left his Brither in a Study.