Tale 18.
There was a Scotchman who dwelt at Gotham, and he took a house, a little distance from London, and turned it into an inn, and for a sign he would have a Boars head; accordingly he went to a Carver, and said, Make me a Bare heed. Yes, said the Carver. Then says he, Make me a bare heed and thous have twenty pence for thy hire. I will do it, said the Carver.—So on St. Andrew's day, before Christmas the which is called Youl in Scotland, the Scot came to London for his Boar's head to set up at his door. I say, to speak, said the Scotchman, hast thou made me a bare's heed. Yes, said the Carver. Aye then thous a good fellow. He went and brought a man's head that was bare, and said here is your bare head! Aye, said the Scot, the mickle devil! is this a bare heed? Yes, said the carver. I say, said the Scotchman, I will have a bare heed, like a heed that follows the sow that has gryces. Sir, said the Carver, I don't know a sow and gryces. What! whoreson, know you not a sow that will greet and groan, and her gryces will run after and cry Aweek, aweek. O, said the Carver it is a pig—Yes said the Scotchman, let me have her heed made in timber, and set on her scalp, and let her sing, whip, whire. The Carver said he could not.—You whoreson, said he, gang as she'd sing Whip, whire.—This shews that all men delight in their fancy.