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 Mither. Wa Sawny, man, what's come o'er thee now? thou hast gotten skaith, some auld wife has witcht thee, or the deil has dung thee o'er in some dirty midden; where hast thou been, or what hast thou seen; thae een reel like a wild eat'scat's [sic], and the sweat is hailing o'er thy nose; thou's witcht, thou's witch't, O man, what will I do.

BoekBock [sic], boekbock [sic], gaed Sawney; but it could na win up for bubbles and herrin banes. Oh, quo' he, keep me in my bed for my days will soon be done; a eursecurse [sic] on your courting wark, for it has killed me, and wives are but wicked things, I ken by the same.

Mither. O dole, dole, my bairn has gotten poison, for the smell of it is like to poison me.

Sawny. Gin herring and het ale be poison, there'll no be mony left alive. BoekBock [sic], boekbock [sic], Oh, quo, Sawney the bed's filed!

Mither. O my bairn, thou was ay a cleanly bairn till now; thou's surely lost thy senses when thou files where thou lies, like the brute beasts: thou never did the like of this before since thou left rocking of the cradle.

Sawny had a terrible night o't, wi a