Page:Merry Muses of Caledonia.djvu/53

(　47　) "Ye pegh and grane, and goazle there, And make an unco splutter, And I maun lie and thole you, though I'm fient a hair the better."

Then he in wrath put up his graith, "The devil's in the hizzie, I mow you as I mow the lave, And night and day I'm busy. "I've bairned the servant gipsies baith, Forbye your titty Leah, Ye barren jade, ye put me mad, What mair can I do wi' you? "There's ne'er a mow I've gien the lave, But ye hae got a dizzen. But d——d a ane ye'se get again, Although your c——t should gizzen." Then Rachel, calm as ony lamb, She claps him on the waulies; Quo' she, "Ne'er fash a woman's' clash, In troth ye mow me brawlies. "My dear 'tis true, for mony a mow, I am your gratefu' debtor, But ance again, I dinna ken, Will aiblins happen better." The honest man wi' little wark, He soon forgot his ire; The patriarch he coost the sark, And up and till't like fire.