Lightsome sangs mak merry gate.
"Ratcliffe, speaking apart to Madge, asked her 'whether she did not remember ony o' her auld sangs?' 'Mony a dainty ane,' said Madge; 'and blithely can I sing them, for lightsome sangs make merry gate.'"—Heart of Midlothian.
Light suppers mak lang days.
Like a sow playing on a trump.
"Trump," a Jew's harp. Typical of extreme awkwardness.
Like Bauldy's wedding, there's nae meat but muckle mirth.
Like blood, like gude, like age, mak the happy marriage.
Like butter in the black dog's hause.
That is, a dangerous position, as butter in the embrace of a dog certainly is.