Page:Prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer (2).pdf/13

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I ancient times, far i’ the north A hundred miles ayont the Forth, Upon a stormy winter day, Twa men forgathered on the way; Ane was a sturdy Bardoch chiel, An’ frae the weather happit weel, Wi’ a milled plaiding jockey-coat, And eke he on his head had got A thrummy cap, baith large and stout, Wi’ flaps a hind, as weel’s a snout, Whilk buttoned close aneath his chin, To keep the cauld frae getting in: Upon his legs he had gamashes, Whilk sodgers term their spaterdashes; An’ on his hands, instead o’ glo’es. Large doddy mittens, whilk he’d roose For warmness, an’ an aiken stick, Nae verra lang, but unco thick, Intil his neive— he drave awa’. And 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’d ca’ him cowardly John. Sae on they gaed at a good scow’r, ’Cause that they saw a gathering shower Grow verra thick upon the wind, Whilk to their wae they soon did find;