University of Virginia Library

'Twas wearing gey an' late at e'en,
Whan younkers leave the daffin green,
Poor Sandie, frae his doughty wark,
Came hame a' jaupit i' the dark,
A lang auld timmer stool drew near
The new peat ingle, glancin clear,
Which sent its reek, in columns black,
Out through an opening i' the thack,
An' gat his wark-looms a' in tune,
To ca' some tackets in his shoon,
Though wi' a lang day's wark sair dung,
He was as stiff's a reisted rung.
His Meg set by her spinnin-wheel,
(Whilk helps the heavy time to steal
Awa,) an' sturdily did hook
The parritch-kettle on the crook,
An' frae the willow buist did scatter
A tate o' meal upo' the water,
Nae doubt for fear it should beguile
Her whan it minted first to boil.

This done, she clauchtit down wi' speed
The bowet aff the box-bed head,
An' frae a boal ye eith might see
Her tak a spunk to light it wi';
For ye maun ken, that just e'en now
'Twas time to gang an' milk the cow.

But here, or we gae farer ben,
Ablins it's fitting to let ken
To them wha reads, that this same Lucky
Was e'en a dour an' thrawart bucky,
Which shawed she was o' bool-horned breed,
Whane'er she took it in her head.
Aye whan he ga'e advice, but swither,
Ye're sure that she wad tak anither;
Na, but a joke, she's aft been seen
To clap her neives afore his een,
While he, poor sumph! boot silence keep,
An' durst na for his lugs play cheep.
Then wi' her hands her tongue kept steeks:
In short now, Marget—wore the breeks.
Compared wi' her in ony way,
He was as contrair's night's frae day;
An honest-hearted simple chiel,
Wha lo'ed to see ilk body weel.
But hear what I am gaun to tell,
An' in th' affair judge for yoursel.

Meg loot but little time expire,
Afore she reached the theeked byre;
But, wow! sad cheat! whan near she drew,
As white's her mutch her haffets grew,
An' legs did shake, as soon's she saw
The door wide stannin to the wa'.
Wi' heart high jumpin to her mou',
She cried, “Preserve us! whare's the cow?”
An' stood an' gloured about fu' keen,
But deil a cow was to be seen:
Then wi' the bowet hame she ran,
To tell the tidings to her man.
“O Sandie, haste, fling by your shoon,”
Quo' she, “an' see what's to be done;
“For some ane's been sae unco glaikit
“As gang an' leave the door unsneckit,
“An' Hornie, being left her lane,
“'S win out, nor ken I whare she's gane.”
“Aweel,” quo' he, “sae ye may crack o't,
“See what a bonny hand ye'll mak o't!”
“I'll mak o't!—What the sorrow way?
“D'ye think that I can watch her aye?
“That is a bonny speech indeed
“To come frae your unwordy head.
“Ye poor, unthinking, senseless sow,
“Get up, an' let us seek the cow.”
Quo' he, right bauld, “Deil's i' the jade!
“I dare say ye are gaun clean mad,
“To think, at sic an elritch time
“O' night, whan we see ne'er a styme,
“That we, like gowks, should gang awa,
“An' ken na what may us befa'.
“What though (nae seeing whare we're gaun)
“In some wild frightfu' place we lan',
“Whare wily bogles, dancing reels,
“May hing us a' up by the heels;
“Or devilish Spunkie, watching, lead
“Us in some pool out-owre the head:
“An', Marget, faith I really doubt,
“Although we e'en should find her out,
“Gif she wi' mae be in a park,
“Ye winna ken her i' the dark.
“But gin ye'll only be sae wise
“As just for ance tak my advice,
“Bide still till light o' day appear,
“An' then we'll find the road mair clear.”

Whane'er this speech came frae his pow,
Meg's passion like a rock took low:
“Whisht! haud your clep, an' speak nae langer,
“Ye neer-do-weel, to raise my anger!
“A pity, faith, but I wad bow
“To tak advice frae sic as you!
“Wae worth ye, sir! it sets ye ill
“To talk to me in sic a style,
“Considering what a life I've led,
“To keep your geits an' you weel clad;
“Or seldom wad ye hae a shift
“Or dud to keep ye frae the drift.”
“For gudesake, Marget,” cries he, “cease,
“An' let us ance again hae peace;
“For whan your tongue but breaks its girth,
“This house is just a hell on yirth:
“But gin ye'll try to keep it still,
“I'll cheerfu' do whate'er ye will.”
For now he saw't vain to contend
An' waste his wind to little end;
An' therefore bade her just sit down
Till he wad fetch some neighbours roun',
Wha wad their best assistance gie
In seeking for the bawsand quey.

Wi' that he did na langer wait,
But set aff, speaking a' the gate;
An' scarce had been awa a crack,
Ere he returned, an' at his back
Came marching in young Robin Gool,
Wi' Habby Graeme the haflins fool,
Auld Symon Glaikie, Geordy Grith,
An' staumrel Willy Gray the smith,
Provided a' wi' thumping cuds,
In case o' need, to gie some thuds.

Wi' ae consent they leave the house,
An' rattle o'er the craft fu' crouse,
Sometimes alang the ditches scouring,
Sometimes out-through the hedges glouring;
While Marget loud an' aft did rair,
“My lady Hornie!” here an' there.
Lang, lang they gaed 'mang hows an' braes,
Through elritch roads an' crooked ways,
An' were beginning to despair
O' seeing Hornie ony mair,
Whan, wearing near an auld windmill,
Just on a sudden Will stood still;
“Whisht! whisht!” quo' he, an' did allege
He heard a boo ahint a hedge,
Whilk Meg birsed through wi' speed, tho' thorny,
To see gif it was really Hornie;
An' though 'twas mirk, she could espy
The park contained some scores o' kye;
On which the men fouk a' gaed in,
To see if they could Hornie fin',
But lippent maist to Marget's skill,
As first an' last she'd ta'en her will;
An' she had said, nae lang before,
She'd ken her quey 'mang fifty score,
E'en though it was as dark as pit,
Whan ane can hardly steer their fit.
As gude's her word, she cried fu' fain,
That she had lighted on her ain,
Whilk nae doubt had, by light o' day,
Within the hedging made its way.
At this blythe news they ga'e a shout,
Wi' perfect joy, an' brought her out;
An' lest she should again escape,
Out-owre her horns they coost a rape:
Syne Gool fu' canny, by the same
Road that they gaed, straught led her hame;
An' a' the lave, to cracking gi'en,
Thought that they had right lucky been;—
Save luckless Will, wha, in his haste,
Splashed in a ditch up to the waist;
An' whan pu'd out by them aboon,
His feet came up, an' left his shoon;
Which gart him, a' the weary road,
Gae trudging wi' his cloots unshod.
An' Marget here began to taunt,
An' jeer poor Sandie for his want
O' sense; an' maist wi' blythness sang,
Because her deeds proved he was wrang.
But wait a wee: or a' be done,
Ye'll ablins hear her change her tune.

Wi' great ado, through dubs an' mire,
The troop fu' joyfu' reached the byre,
Whare hung o'er rungs ilk wearied wight,
Till Marget gaed an' fush a light.
Then hunkering down upo' her knees,
Poor Hornie o' her milk to ease,
She ga'e a screigh, wi' stannin hairs—
“The Lord keep's a' frae witches' snares!
“As clear to me as shining pewther,
“They've whuppet aff poor Hornie's uther.”
“G*d's presence guide's!” ilk chield did roar,
An' a' made clean heels to the door.
Lang Habby Graeme, wi' downright hurry,
Played clyp out-owre an auld wheelbarrow;
An' held it as a sterling fact,
Some bogle rampaged at his back.
Meg, rinning like a flea in blanket,
Her coats upon a lang nail hanket,
That gart her coup the creels, an' squeel—
“Ah, sirs! I'm grippet by a deil!”
An' as she cross the threshold lay,
Wae's me! she near hand swarf'd away.
Poor Will the smith, wi' half-cauld blood,
But shoon or bannet, roaring stood;
An' some, to get themsels weel hidden,
Were maistly smothered i' the midden.

Thus matters in confusion reigned,
Till time near half an hour had gained,
Whan they again began to gather
A little spunk, an' creep thegither:
Syne near the haystack, but dissension,
They gaed to haud a stout convention.
But just whan Hab began descanting,
Will cried that Symon was awanting,
An' ilk ane ferlied nae a wee,
What luckless gate the chield could be.
Then Gool proposed, that they should gae
An' seek him out without delay:
Sae out they bourach'd in a thrang,
But fand they had na far to gang;
For frae the byre a tether-length,
The callan tint a' maughts an' strength.
There, to their great surprise and wonder,
They fand him lying as flat's a flounder,
Upon his wame; nor wad he steer,
But lay an' panted sair wi' fear,
Just like a hare that's lang been hunted
By bloody hounds an' sportsmen mounted.
Will took him rashly by the arm,
An' bade him rise, nor fear ought harm;
But Symon, wha ne'er turned to see him,
Now really thought the deil was wi' him,
An', gasping, rair'd wi' a' his might,
“O, murder! O, I'm fell'd outright!”
Till Sandie took him by the hand,
An' then his wide mistake he fand.
Syne a' again, a wee piece back,
Retired to argue near the stack,
Whare the hale tot, for fear o' skaith,
Were fley'd to speak aboon their breath.
But Sandie, wha right eithly saw
This night's wark in Meg's crap wad craw,
Thus to her spake: “Ye stupid ass,
“I tald ye what wad come to pass;
“But na! ye're aye sae self-conceited,
“A gude advice ye scorn an' hate it,
“Till ance ye find it is o'er late,
“An' then, forsooth, ye're glad to hae't.”
Will Gray, wi' faltering voice, spak neist:
“I think we'd best send for the priest,
“Wha'll gar the witches cour their head,
“An', come what will, he'll nae be fley'd.”
Now ilka birkie gied his notion,
An' sealed it wi' some queer-like motion;
But a' agreed, at length an' lang,
The byre to enter in a bang;
An' for that purpose, linked steeve,
They held by ane anither's neive:
Then a' at ance (it is nae jest)
Moved slawly forat in a breast:
But, vow! what was their hale surprise,
Whan Habby Graeme, astonished, cries:
“My gudesake, sirs, may I be shot
“Gif it be ought but a brown—stot!
“That frae the grass park we hae brought;
“Sae a' our wark has gane for nought!”
Aft trifles big mishanters bring,
Frae whilk a hunder mae may spring;
An' some, wha thrawart tempers hae,
Aft stand unkent in their ain way:
But aye, to guard against a coup,
Fouk should look weel afore they loup.