Page:Monk and the miller's wife (4).pdf/1



Now lend your lugs, ye’ benders fine,

Wha ken the benefit o’ wine;

An' you wha laughin’ scud brown ale

Leave jinks a wee, an’ hear a tale.

An honest miller won'd in Fife,

That had a young an’ wanton wife,

Wha sometimes thol’d the parish-priest

To mak her man a twa-horn'd beast

This lad paid mony visits till her;

An', to keep in wi Hab the miller,

H' endeavour'd aft to mak him happy,

Whare’er he kent the ale was nappy.

Sic condescension in a pastor

Knit Halbert's love to lim the faster;

An’ by his converse, trouth ’tis true,

Hab learn'd to preach when he was fou.

Thus all the three were wond’rous pleas’d,

The wife weel serv'd, the man weel eas’d

This grunds his corn, an' that did cherish

Himsel’ wi' dinin roun' the parish.

Bess, the gudewife, thought it nae skaith,

Since she was fit to serve them baith.

When equal is the night an’ day,

An' Ceres gies the schools the play,

A youth-sprung from a gentlerpater,

Bred at St. Andrews. alma-mater,

Ae day gaun hameward it fell late,

An' him benighted by the gate:

To lie without; pit-mirk did shore him,

He coudna’ see his thum before him;