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The wives and gytlings a' ſpawn‘d out, o'er middens, and o'er dykes, Wi‘ mony an unco ſktrle and ſhout, like bumbees frae their bykes; Thro' thick and thin they ſcour'd about, plaſhing thro' dubs and ſykes: And ſic a rear'd ran thro' the rout, gart a' the hale town tykes Yamph loud that day.

But do ye ſee fou better bred was mensfou Maggy Murdy, She her man like a lammy led hame, wi' a weel-wal'd wordy; Faſt frae the company he fled, as he had tane the ſturdy; She fleech'd him fairly to his bed, wi‘ ca'ing him her burdy; Kindly that day.

But Lawrie he took out his nap, upon a mow o' peaſe, And Robin ſpewed in's ain wife's lap; he ſaid it gae him eaſe. Hutcheon i' a three lugged cap, his head bizzing wi' bees, Hit Geordy a miſluſhous rap, and brake the brig o‘s noſe, Right fair that day.