Page:Thrummy cap, a tale (2).pdf/7

 An' siller plenty i' my pouch?

To nane about this house I'll crouch;

Come John, lat's in, We'll tak a seat,

Fat sorrow gars you look sae blate-

Sae in he gaes, an' sets him down,

Says he, they're nae about your town

Sall put me out till a new day,

As lang's I've siller for to pay.

The landlord says ye're rather rash,

To turn you out we sanna fash,

Since ye're sae positive to bide,

But troth, ye'll sit by the fire-side.

I tald you ance, o' beds I've nane

Unoccupied, except bare ane;

In it, I dread, ye winna ly,

For stoutest hearts ha'e aft been shy

To venture in within the room

After the night begins to gloom;

It's haunted by a frightfu' ghaist,

Oursel'es are terrified amaist

To bide about the town a' night,

Sae ye may chance to get a sight,

Like that whilk some o' our folks saw-

Far better till ye gang awa,