Page:Dominie deposed, with the sequel.pdf/11

 11 Wi’ blubber’d cheeks, and watry nose, Her weary story she did close ; I said the best, and aff she goes Just like a thief, Au’ took a glass to interpose, ’Twixt mirth and grief.

Yet would hae gi’en my ha’f year’s fee, Had Maggy then been jesting me, Had tartan purry, meal an’ bree, Or buttr’y brose, Been kilting up her petticoats Aboon her hose.

But time that tries such pratioks past. Brought me out o’er the coals fu’ fast ; Poor Maggy took a sudden blast. And o’er did tumble. For something in her wame at last Began to rumble.

Our folk ca’d it the windy gravel, That grips the guts beneath the navel, But laith was she for to unravel Their gross mistake, Weel kend she, that she was in travail, Wi’ little Jack.

But, to put matters out of doubt, Young John within would fain been out, An’ but an’ ben made sic a rout Wi’ hands and feet, That she began twa-fauld about The house to creep.