Part I.
Jockey. Hey Maggy, wilt thou stay and tak kent fouks hame wi’ ye the night?
Maggy. Wiltu come awa than Johny. I fain wad be hame or the ky come in, our meikle Riggy is sic a rumbling royte, she rins ay thro’ the byre, and sticks a’ the bits a couties; my mither is nae able to had her up to her ain stake.
Jockey. Hute, we’ll be hame in bra’ time woman: and how’s a’ your fouks at hame?
Maggy. Indeed I canna well tell you man, our guidame is a’ gane wi’ the gut; my mither is very frail, my father he’s ay wandering about, and widdling amang the beasts.
Jockey. But dear Maggy they tell me we’re gawn to get a wedding of thee and Andrew Merrymouth the laird’s gardener.
Maggy. Na, na, he maun hae a brawer lass to be his wife than the like o’ me, but auld Tammy Tailtrees was seeking me, my father wad a haen me to tak him, but my mither wadna let, there was an odd debate about it, my guidame wad a sticket my mither wi’ the grape, if my father hadna chanc’d to founder her wi’ the beetle.
Jockey. Hech woman, I think your father was a fool for fashing wi’ him, auld slavery dufe, he wants naething of a cow but the clutes, your guidame may tak him hersel, twa auld tottering stumps, the tane may sair the tither fu’ well.
Maggy. Ach man! I wad a tane thee or ony body to hane them greed again, my father bled my guidame’s nose, and my guidame brake my mithers thumb; the neighbours came a’ rinning in, but I had the luck to haud my father’s hands till yence my guidame plotted him wi’ the broe that was to mak our brose.
Jockey. Dear Maggy, I hae something to tell you an ye wadna be angry at it?
Maggy. O Johnny, there’s my hand I’se no be angry at it, be what it will.
[Shakes hands for fear of an outcast.][1]
Jockey. Indeed Maggy the fouk of your town and the fouk of our town, says, we are gawn to be married: What say’st thou?
Maggy. I wish we ne’er do war, O Johny, I dream’d o’ you lang syne, an I liket you ay after that.
Jockey. O Maggy! Maggy! dost thou mind since I came to your mither’s bill, wi’ my mither’s cow, ye ken she wadna stand, and ye helped me to haud her; ay after that they scorned me that I wad be married on a you.
Maggy. It’s very true man, it’ll be an odd thing an it be; but it’s no fa’ back at my door, I assure ye.
Jockey. Nor at mine, but my mither bad me kiss ye.
Maggy. Indeed sall ye Johny, thou’s no want twa kisses man, ane on every side o’ the mouth, man.
Jockey. Ha! ha! Maggy, I’ll hae a merry night o’ kissing you shortly.
Maggy. Ay but Johny, you maun stay till that night come: it’s best to keep the feast until the feast day.
Jockey. Dinna be angry Maggy, my wife to be, but I have heard my mither saying in her daffing that fouk sud ay try gin their house will haud their plenishin.
Maggy. Ay but Johny, a wife is ae thing, an a house anither, a man that’s a mind to marry a woman he’ll no mak her a whore.
Jockey. It’s a’ true Maggy, but fouks may do it yence or they be married and no hae nae ill in their minds.
Maggy. Aha Johny, mony a are has been beguil’d wi’ yence, and do it yence ye may do it ay, what an we get a bystart, and hae to suffer for the foul act of fornication.
Jockey. Ay but my mither says, if I dinna get thee wi’ bairn, I’ll no get thee; so it’s the surest way of wooing.
Maggy. Indeed Johny I like you better nor ony lad I see, and I sall marry you an yence my father’s muck were out, my mither downa wirk at the midden.
Jockey. A Maggy, Maggy, I’m fear’d ye beguile me, an then my mither will murder me for being so silly.
Maggy. My jo Jockey, tell your mither to provide a’ things for the bridal, and I sal marry you in three uks after this, but we maun gie in siller to the Precentor, a groat an a drink to the bellman, and then the Kirk wa’s maun hear o’t, three sunday’s or it come.[2]
Jockey. But Maggy am no to make a blin bargain wi’ you nor nae body, I maun ken o’ your things an ye sall ken o’ mine.
Maggy. I ken well what I was to get, an gin my mither like the bargain well, she’ll make it better; but an my father be angry at the match, I darna meet you to be married.
Jockey. I see na how he can be angry. I wat well I’m a gay sturdy fallow, when I laid on a bow and five pecks o’ bear on the laird’s Bawsey, an he’s as bilchy a beast as in a’ the barronry.
Maggy. Ay but my mither is aye angry at ony body that evens themselves to me, an it binna them she likes, indeed she bad me tak ony body if it were na auld tottering Tammie, for his beard is ay brown wi’ sucking tobacco, and slavers a’ the breast o’ his fecket.
Jockey. O! Maggy tak me an I’ll tell you what I hae; first my father left me when he died, fifty merks, twa sacks, twa pair of sunks, the hens, an the gawn gear was to be divided between me and my mither, and if she died first, a’ her gear was to come amang mine, and if I died before her, a’ my gear was to come back to her again, an her to marry anither man if she cou’d get him. But since it’s happened sae, she is to gie me Brucky an the black mare, the haf o’ the cogs, three spoons, four pair o’ blankets an a can’as, she’s to big a twa bey to her ain gavel to be a dwelling house to me an my wife, am to get the wee byre at the end o’ the raw to haud my cow and twa couties; the haf o’ the barn an a bed o’ the kailyard as lang as she lives, an when she dies am to pay the earding o’ her honestly, and a’ the o’ercome is to be my ain: an by that time I’ll be as rich as e’er my father was before me.
Maggy. Truly Johny, I’se no say meikle to the contrair, but an ye hae a mind to tak me wi’ what I hae, tell me either now or never, for I’se be married or lang gae.
Jockey. I wat weel I am courting in earnest, tell me what you hae, an we’ll say nae mair but marry ither.
Maggy. I’se tell you a’ I ken o’, whate’er my guidame gies ye’s get it.
Jockey. That’s right, I want nae mair, it’s an unko thing to marry a naket woman and get naething but twa bair legs.
Maggy. O Johny ye’re ay in the right o’t, for mony ane is beguil’d and gets naething, but my father is to gie me forty pund Scots, that night I am married, a lade of meal, a furlet of groats, auld Crummie is mine since she was a cauf, and now she has a stirk will tak the bill e’er beltan yet, I hae twa stane o’ good lint, and three pockfu’s o’ tow a good cauf bed, twa bowsters and three cods, with three pair o’ blankets, an’ a covering; forby twa pair to spin, but my mither wadna gie me crish to them, an ye ken the butter is dear now.[3]
Jockey. Then farewel the night Maggy; the best o’ friends maun part, and so maun thy twa legs yet.
Maggy. I wish you well, Johny, but sae nae mair till we be married, and then lad.
Hame gaed Maggy and tell’d her Mither.
Mag. O mither! I hae something to tell ye, but ye mauna tell my father.
Mither. Dear Maggy an what is that!
Mag. Deed Mither, am gawn to be married an’ the muck were out.
Mith. Dear Maggy an wha’s thou gawn to get, it’s no auld bubly Tammy.
Mag. Na, na, he’s a bra young man, and has mair gear nor ilka body kens o’, guess an I’ll tell you, it’s Johny Bell, and his mither sent him to the market just to court me.
Mith. Deed Maggy ye’ll no be ill youket wi’ him, he’s a gay we’ll gawn fallow, right spruch, amaist like an ill-far’d gentleman. Hey guidman, do ye hear that our Maggy is gawn to be married an the muck were out.
Father. Na, na, I’ll no allow that until the peats be cussen and hurl’d.
Mag. O father it’s dangerous to delay the like o’ that, I like him, an he likes me, it’s best to strike the iron whan it’s het.
Fath. An wha is she gawn to get guidwife?
Mith. An wha think ye guidman?
Fath. A what wat I herie, an she please hersel, am pleas’d already.
Mith. Indeed she’s gawn to get Johny Bell, as cliver a little fallow, as in a the barronry where he bides.
Fath. A well, a well herie, she’s yours as well as mine, gie her to wha ye please.
Mith. A well Maggy, I’se hae a’ things ready, an I’ll hae thee married or this month be done.
Mag. Thanks to ye Mither, mony a good turn ye done me, an this will be the best, I think.
Hame gaed Jockey to his mither, crying.
Jock. Mither! Mither! I made it out, her mouth is sweeter na milk, my heart plays a whiltie whaltie whan I kiss her.
Mith. Fair fa’ thee my son Johny, thou’s gotten the geat o’t at last, and whan is thou gawn to be married?
Jock. Whan I like mither, but get the masons the morn, to big me my house, for I’ll hae a’ my things in right good order.
Mith. Thou’s want for naething, my bairn, but pusht forward as fast as ye can.
The wooing being o’er and the day being set, Jockey’s mither killed the black boul horn’d yeal Ewe, that lost her lamb the last year, three hens and a gule fitted cock, to prevent the ripples, five pecks o’ maut masket in the meikle kirn, a pint o’ trykle to mak it thicker an sweeter an maumier for the mouth; five pints o’ whisky wherein was garlic and spice, for raising o’ the wind, an the clearing o’ their water; the friends and good neighbours went a’ wi’ John to the kirk, where Maggy chanced to meet him and was married by the minister; the twa companies joined togither and came hame in a croud, at every change house they chanced to pass by, providence stopt their proceeding, with full stoups, bottles and glasses drinking their healths, wishing them much joy, ten girls and a boy: Jockey seeing so many wishing well to his health, coupt up what he got, for to augment his health and gar him live long, which afterwards coupt up him and proved detrimental to the same.
So home they came to the dinner, where his mother presented to them a piping het haggies, made of the creish of the black boul horn’d Ewe, boil’d in the meikle bag, mixt with bear meal, onions, spice and mint: this haggis being supt warm, the foaming swats and spice in the liquor set John’s belly a bizin like a working fat, and he playing het fit to the fidler, was suddenly seized with a bocking and rebounding, gave his dinner such a backward ca that he lost a’ but the grit bits scythed through his teeth; his mother cried to spence him, and bed him wi’ the bride, his breeks being fill’d, they washed both his hips, laid him in his bed, pale and ghostly was his face, and closed were baith his een, ah, cries his mither, a dismal day indeed, his brithal and his burial may baith be on ae day: some cuist water in his face, and jagg’d him wi’ a needle; till he began to rouze himself up, and rap out broken words, mither, mither, whar am I now? Whar are ye my bairn says his mither, ye’re beddet, and I’ll bring the bride to you. Beddet, and is my brithel done ells? Ay, said she, here’s the bride come to ly down wi’ you: na, na, said he, I’ll no ly wi that unco woman indeed, if it binna heeds and thraws, the way that I lay wi’ my mither; O fy dinna affront yoursel. The bride faus a crying. O mither, mither, was this the way my father guided you the first night? Na, na, thy father was a man o’ manners and better mettle, poor thing Meg, thou’s caud thy hogs to a bonny market. A bonny market, says his mither, a shame fa you and her baith, he’s worthy o’ her tho’ she were better nor what she is, or e’er will be. His friends an her friends being a mixt multitude, some took his part some took her’s, there a battle began in the clap of a hand, being a very fierce tumult which ended in blood, they struck so hard with stones, sticks, beetles, and barrow trams, pigs, pots, stoups, trunchers, were flying like bombs and granades.
The crook, bouls and tongs were all employed as weapons of war: till down came the bed with a great mou of peats. So this disturbed the treading.[4]
THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF OUR JOHN.