Page:Monk and the miller's wife (1).pdf/6

[6] Like our mill-knaves, that lift the laiding, Whase kytes can ſtreck out-like raw plaiding? Swith, roast a hen, or fry ſome chickens, And ſend for ale frae Maggy Picken's." "Hout aye," quoth ſhe, "ye may wiel ken, 'Tis ill brought but that's no the bin; When but last owk, nae farder gane, The laird got a' to pay hiſ kain." Then James, wha had as good a guess Of what was in the house as Beſs, With pawky ſmile this plea o end, To please himsel and ease his friend, First open'd with a ſly oration, His wond'rous ſkill in conjuration. Said he, "Be thir ſell art I'm able- To whop off ony great man's table Whate'er I like to mak a meal of - Et her in part, or yet the hail of - And if ye please, I'll ſhaw my art".- Cries Halbert, “ Faith with all my heart!" Bess fain'd herself-cry'd, Lord be here!" And near hand fell aswoon for fear James laugh, and bade her naithing dread, Syne to his conjuring went with ſpeed : And first he draws a circle round, Then utters mony a magic ſound Of words part Latin, Greek and Dutch, Enow to fright a very witch: That done, he ſays, "Now, now 'tis come, And in the boal beside the lum ; Now ſet the board ; goodwife gae ben, Bring frae yon boal a roasted hen.' She wadna gang, but Habby ventur'd, And ſoon as he the ambrie enter'd. It ſmell'd ſae wiel, he ſhort time fought it, And, wond'ring, 'tween his hands he brought it!