Page:Thrummy Cap (3).pdf/8

 Come John, lat's in—we'll tak a seat, Fat sorrow gars ye look fae blate? Sae in he gangs, and lets him down, Says he, there's nane about your town, S'll put me out till a new day. As larg's I've filler for to pay— The landlord lays, ye’re rather rath, To tum ye out we sanna sath, Slice ye're so positive to bide; But troth ye'se sit by the fire-side, I tald ye ance of beds I’ve nane Unoccupied except bare ane, In it I fear ye winna ly, For stoutest; hearts hae aft been shy To venture in within the room, After the night begins to gloom: For in it they can ne’er get rest, Tis haunted by a frightfu' ghaist; Oursells are terrified a' night; Sae ye may chance to get a fight. Like that which some of our fouk saw. Far better till ye gang awa, Or else ye’ll maybe rue the day,——— Code faith, quo John, I’m thinkin’ sae! Better into the neuk to fit, Than stey'd, gude keep's, out o’ our wit. The Lord preserve me frae all evil, I wadna like to fee the devil——— 'Whiflit gowk, quo Thrummy, had yer peace. That sanna gar me quit this place. To great or sma I ne'er did ill, Nat ghaist nor deil my rest shall spill;