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It is an awfu' din, and tells wi' a lordly voice wha is coming and at hand: we shall na mare be deceived.

Dinna tug at me sa wickedly, Wilkin; thou shalt ha' a bellyfu' soon o' the fat o' the lawn, my poor glutton.

Fou! fou! meat! great meat!—hurr, hurr! (making a noise in his throat to express pleasure) it's a-coming!

We shall ha' what we list at last,—milk and meat! meat and malt!

Mingling and merry-making; and revenge for the best sport of a'!

Ay; the hated anes will pay the cost, I trow. We'll sit at our good coags of cream, and think o' the growling carle's kye wi' their udders lank and sapless, and the goodwife greeting ow'r her kirn.

Ha, ha, ha! there's good spice in that, woman, to relish far poorer fare.