Page:Watty & Meg, or, The wife reformed (1).pdf/4



Up my claes an' cash I buckel't,
 * Bess! for ever fare ye weel.

Then her din grew less and less aye,
 * Hath I gart her change her tune;

Now, a better wife than Bessy
 * Never stept in leather shoon.

Try this Watty-Whan ye see her
 * Ragin' like a roarin' flood,

Swear, that moment, that ye'll lea' her;
 * That's the way to keep her gude.

Laughin', sangs, an lasses' skirls,
 * Echo'd now out thro' the roof;

Done! quo' Pate, and syne his erls
 * Nail't the Dryster's wauket loof.

I' the thrang o' stories tellin',
 * Shakin' hauns, an' ither chear,-

Swith! a chap comes on the hallan,
 * "Mungo! is our Watty here?"

Maggy's weel-kent tongue and hurry
 * Dartet thro' him like a knife,

Up the door flew—-like a fury,
 * In cam' Watty's scawlin' wife.

Nasty, gude-for naething bein',
 * O ye snuffy, drucken sow!

Bringin' wife and weans to ruin,
 * Drinkin' here wi' sic a crew!

Devil nor your legs were broken!
 * Sic a life nae flesh endures-

Toilin' like a slave, to slocken
 * You, ye dyvor, and your 'hores!