Page:Murderit mynstrell.pdf/12

 In ancient times, far i’ the north, A hundred miles ayont the forth, Upon a stormy winter day, Twa men forgather’d o’ the way, Ane was a sturdy bardoch chiel An’ frae the wether happit weel, Wi’ a mill’d plaiding jockey-coat And eke he on his head had got A thrummy cap baith large and stout, Wi’ flaps ahind, as weel’s a snout, Whilk button’d close aneath his chin, To keep the cauld frae getting in Upon his legs he had gammashes Whilk sodgers term their spatterdashes An’ on his hands instead o’ gloves, Large doddy mittens, whilk he'd roose For warmness, an* an aiken stick Nae verralang, but unco thick, Intill his nieve—he dravo awa’, But car'd for neither frost nor snaw, The ither was just the reverse, O' claes and courage baith was scarce, Sae in our tale, as we go on, I think we'll ca* him cow'rldy John. Sae on they gade at a gude scow’r, ’ Cause that they saw a gath’ring shower,