Jockey no being used to lie wi’ a naked woman, except heads and thraws wi’ his mither, gets his twa hands about the brides neck and his houghs out o’er her hurdies, saying, I ne’er kist wife nor lass naked before, and for fainness I’ll bite you, I’ll bite you, &c. Naithing mair remarkable till about haf a year and four ukes thereafter, in comes Marion Mushet rinning barefoot and bare legget, wi’ bleart cheeks and a watery nose, cursing and banning, greeting and flyting.
Marion enters. Crying, and whar’s John.
His mither answers. Indeed he’s out in the yard powing Kail runts.
Marion. A black end on a him and his runts baith, for he’s ruin’d me and my bairn.
Mith. Ruin’d you! it canna be; he never did you ill, nor said you ill, be night or be day, what gars you say that?
Mar. O woman! our Jenny is a’ rowing like a pack o’ woo; indeed she’s wi’ quick bairn, and your John is the father o’t.
Mith. Our John the father o’t! had, there enough said, lying lown, I trow our John was ne’er guilty of sic a sinfu action: Daft woman, I true it ill be but wind that hoves up the lasses wame; she’ll hae drunken some sour drink like sour sowens, or rotten milk that mak’s her sae.
Mar. A wae be to him and his actions baith, he’s the father o’t furnicator dog that he’s, he’s ruin’d me and my bairn; I bore her and brought her up honestly, till she came, to you; her father died and left me wi’ four o’ them, there wasna ane o’ them cou’d pit on anither’s claes, or tak a louse aff ither.
Mith. I bid you had your tongue, and no even your bystarts to my bairn, for he’ll ne’er tak wi’t: he, poor silly lad, he wad ne’er look to a lass, be’s to lay her down. Fy Maggy cry in o’ John, and let’s ratify’t wi’ the auld ruddoch: ay, ye’ere no blate for saying sae.