Part II.
Up got Sawny in the morning, and swallowed o’er his sodden meat, slag by slag; and aff he goes to the coals and the courting, lilting and singing like a lav’rock in a May mornin, O to be married if this be the way. The colliers wonder’d a’ to see him sae well busket, wi’ a pair o’ wally side auld fashioned breeks o’ his father’s,[35] and a lang cravate like a minister, or Baillie Duff at a burial, a clean face and hands, and no less than a gun sleev’d linen sark on him, which made his cheeks to shine like a sherney weight, and the colliers swore he was as bra’ as a horse gawn to a cow’s dredgy.
But Sawny came aff wi’ his coals whistling, and whipping up the poor beast e’en as outragious as ony ram at riding time; well might ony body see there was a storm in Sawny’s nose, light where it like; for no sooner had he sell’d his coals than he left his horse to come hame wi’ a nibour callen, and gade keeking up the Cow-gate, and thro’ the closes, seeking auld Be-go his good-mither to be, then in thro’ the fish market where he bought a lang herrin, an’ twa baps, a pair of suters auld shoon greesed black and made new, to make his feet feasible like, as he kend the lass wad look at them, (for his mither tell’d him the women look’d ay to the men’s legs or they marry’d them, and the well-legged louns gade ay best aff.)
So Sawny came swaggering through a’ the shell wives, but she was nae there, but coming down the town beneath the guard, meets auld Be-go just in the teeth, and crys, hey laddie my dow, how’s your mither honest Mary? I thank you co’ Sawny, she’s meat-heal, and ay working some, how is a’ at hame, is Kate and the laddie well?
Mat. Fu’ well my dow, you’re a bra’ soncy dog grown, a wally fa’ me gin I kend ye.
Come, come, co’ Sawny, and I’ll gie you a nossock to heat your wame, it’s a cauld day, an’ ye’re my mither’s countryman.
Na’ fair fa’ you Sawny, I’ll no refus’t, a dram’s better the day nor a clap on the arse wi’ a cauld shule, sae fallow me my dow.
So away she took me, co’ Sawny, down a dark stair to ane o’ the how houses, beneath the yird, where it was mirk as in a coal heugh,[36] and they had a great fire, Sweet be wi’ me, co’ Sawny, for it minds me o’ the ill part, an’ a muckle pot like a little caldron, seething kail and roasting flesh, the wife forket them out as fast us she cou’d into cogs and caps, for there came in a whin sutor-like fallows wi’ black thumbs and creashy aprons, that cuttied them a’ up in a wee time, but they ne’er fashed wi’ us nor we with them; we first got a gill and then a het pint; a vow said I Matty, is nae Kate gawn to get a man yet?
A man laddie, a wha wad hae her? a muckle lazy useless jade, she can do naething but work at husband wark;[37] card and spin, wash ladies rooms, and scour gentlemen’s bonny things, she canna tak a creel on her back, and apply to merchandizing as I do to win a man’s bread.
Sawny. I think some o’ the fishers and her may mak it up.
Mat. A fisher laddie, hech the fishers has a better look out wi’ them, the fishers wad rather hae a pickle good baits to their hooks, and twa three bladders to their lines, then put up wi’ the like o’ her, a stinking pridefu’ jade, although I bore her, ay scraping and washing at hersel, pricking and prining, keeps her face ay like a Flanders baby, and no less nor ribbons and rings, and her shone made o’ red clouts; an’ de’il stick pride, when our auld goodum ran barefoot, and our gutchers gaed wi’ bare hips. Gie her a man, ill thief stap a gouk in her arse first, that it may cry cuckow whenever she speaks o’t; she can do naething but scour ladies piss pots, and keep clean the tirlie whirlies that hangs about the fire, heth she’s o’er gently brought up to be a poor man’s penny worth.
Hegh how co’ Sawny, an’ its e’en a great pity, for she’s a weel far’d lusty hissy, I had a great kindness for her.
Mat. A-well-a-wat she’s no lingle tail’d, she may be a caff-bed to a good fallow; but an thou had seen me at her age, I was a sturdy gimmer: there was na ane about a’ the Hyne or Dubby-side, cou’d lay a curpen to a creel wi’ me; the fient a fallow in a’ Fife, but I wad a laid him on the braid o’ his back, an’ a’ his gear upmost, I was a chiken to chatter wi’ indeed laddie, I had a pair o’ cheeks like a chapman’s arse, and a flank like an ox; sae had I een.
Sawny. Nae doubt co’ Sawny but ye had a pair o’ beefy buttocks, for your very cheeks hings like leather bags to this very day; but I’ll tell you what am gaun to tell you, do you think that your Kate wad tak me, an I wad come to court her.
Mat. Tak you laddie, tak you, a faith she’ll tak you, for she wou’d a tane a poor button thing of a half blind taylor, wartna me, a poor, bleir’d scabbit like creature it was, I seen the day I wou’d ha carried it in my pouch: wode I’se warrent her jump at you like a fish at a flee, wode I say tak you, an’ she winna tak you I’se tak you mysel; but she and I cust out the day, about her cockups and blackcaps, gard me say sae meickle o’ her, but she’s my sonsy dawty for a’ that, weel a wat she’s a weel natured lassie an’ she turn an ill-natured wife I canna tell.
Sawny. A we’ll then I’ll venture on her as she is, for my mither’s pleased, and ye’re pleas’d, an’ am pleas’d, an’ in she be pleas’d wode I am sure to get her, an’ the taylor has nae bridled her, or tane a trying trotty o’ her.
Mat. But Sawny man, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, I’ll hame and broach her the night on’t, an’ come ye the morn, we’ll make it fude fast in a wee time, so thou’s get mair tocher than a cramon, gamon to gamon, she has baith blankets and sheets, a covering and twa cods, a caff-bed and bowster, and hear’st thou me laddie, I have a bit auld hogger[38] an’ some thing in’t, thou’s get it when I die; but by my suth it will be the last thing that I will part wi’, I kenna what I may need yet, its an auld wife kens her wierd.
On this they paid their spout[39] and parted; but when Sawny came out he stoited and stagger’d like a sturdy stot, molash was chief commander, for he thought every body had two heads and four een and more noses than they needed; being sometime in the dark house, thought it was the morning of a new day, a hech said he, when was I a night frae my mither before, she’ll think I am put in the guard, tane wi’ the deel, or the doctors, or anse married, and wirking at the wanton wark o’ wean’s making.
Mat. Hute daft laddie, the soup drink’s in your head, this day and yesterday is a’ ae day, ye’ll be hame in bra’ time yet.
Sawny. A well a well then good day to you good-mither, ye maun gar Kate tak me or thief tak you a’ the gither, I’ll hame and tell the length its come, an’ it come nae farther it maun e’en stick there.—Off he goes tacking about like a ship against the wind, as if he would knock holes in the wa’s and windows wi’ his elbows, he looked as fierce as a lion; wi’ a red face like a trumpeter, and his nose was like a bublie-cocks neb, as blue as a blawirt; but or he wan half way, his head turned heavier nor his heels, and many a filthy fa’ he got, through thick and thin he plash’d, till hame he gets at last, grunting and graping by the wa’s, that auld Mary his mither thought it was their neighbour’s sow, he was so bedaubed wi’ dirt, gets him to bed, he was in a boiling barrel fever, and poor Mary grat wi’ grief.
Sawny. Hech hey co’ Sawny, but courting be a curst wark, and costly, an’ marriage be as mortifying and murdering, the devil may be married for me.
Mither. Wa, Sawny man what’s come o’er thee now, thou’s gotten skaith, some auld wife has witcht thee,[40] or the deel has dung thee o’er in some dirty midden, my bairn’s elf-shot; whar has thou been, or what hast thou seen, thy een reels like a wild cat, and the sweat is hailing o’er thy nose, thou’s witcht, O man what will I do!
Sawny. Bock, bock co’ Sawny, but it couldna win up wi’ bubbles and herrin banes, o’ co’ Sawny put me in my bed, for my days will soon be done, a curse on your courting wark, for its kill’d me, and wives is but wicked things I ken by the same.
Mither. O dole! dole my bairn has gotten poison, for the smell o’t is like poison to me.
Sawny. Gin herrin and het ale be poison, there’ll no be mony left alive: Bock co’ Sawny, the bed’s filld.
Mither. My bairn thou was ay a cleanly bairn till now, thou’s surely lost thy senses when thou files where thou lies as the brute beasts does, thou never did the like o’ this before since thou left cakying o’ the cradle.
N.B.—The third Part gives a further account of the Courtship and Marriage, &c.