Now some say, this is too satirical a history, but it is according to the knowledge of those times, not to say in any place by another, old wives tell us yet of many such stories, as the devil appearing to their grandfathers and grandmothers, and dead wives coming back again to visit their families, long after their being buried: but this Bucky-haven which was once noted for droll exploits, is now become more knowing, and is a place said to produce the best and hardiest watermen or sailors of any town on the Scots coast, yet many of the old people in it, still retain the old tincture of their old and uncultivated speech, as be-go-laddie, also a fiery nature, if you ask any of the wives where their college stands, they’ll tell you, if your nose were in their arse, your mouth would be at the door of it.
Now, it happened, when Wise Willy turned old he took a great swelling in his wame, and casting up o’ his kail, collops and cauld fish, that nothing staid on his stomach, and a stout stomach had he, for crab-heads, or scate-brose, or fat-brose on a bridal morning; yet it fail’d him; he fell sick, and none could cure him, or tell what ail’d him, till a mountebank stage-doctor came to Kirkcaldy, that could judge by people’s water, the troubles of their person, and Willy hearing of his fame, pissed into a bottle, and sent it away with his daughter; the bottle being uncorked, his daughter spilt it by the way, and to conceal her sloth in so doing, pissed in it herself, and on she goes, till she comes to the stage, and cries, Sir Dochter, Sir Dochter, here is a bottle o’ my father’s wash, he has a sair guts, and never needs to drite ony, he spues a’ he eats, ’tis true I tell you my dow; the doctor looks at it, and says, It is not your father’s, surely it is your mother’s; de’il’s i’ the man, co’ she, divna I ken my father by my mother? Then, said he, he is with child: A de’il’s i’ the man co’ she, for my mother bore a’ de bairns before, dat’s no true sir, a figs ye’re a great liar, home she came, and tell’d Willy her father, that the doctor said he was wi’ bairn. O waes me, co’ Willy, for I hae a muckle wame, and I fear its o’er true, O plague on you Janet, for ye’re the father o’t, and I’m sure to die in the bearing o’t. Witty Eppie was sent for, as she was houdy, and fand a’ Willy’s wame, to be sure about it, indeed co’ Eppie ye’re the first man e’er I saw wi’ bairn before; and how ye’ll bear’t I dinna ken, ye hae a wally wame, weel I wat, but how men bear bairns I never saw them yet, but I would drink sa’t water and drown’t in my guts, for an men get anes the gate o’ bearing weans themsells, they’ll seek nae mae wives: so Willy drank sea-water till his guts was like to rive, and out he goes to ease himself among the kail, and with the terrible hurl of farting, up starts a mauken behind him, thinking she was shot, Willy sees her jumping o’er the dike, thought it was a child brought forth, cries, Come back my dear and be christened, and no rin to the hills and be a Pagan,[179] so Willy grew better every day thereafter, being brought to bed in the kail-yard: but his daughter was brought to bed some months thereafter, which was the cause of the doctor’s mistake.
PART II.
Now Wise Willie had a daughter, called Rolloching Jenny, because she spoke thick, sax words at three times, half sense and half nonsense, as her own words and actions will bear witness. She being with child, was brought to bed of a bonnie lass bairn: and a’ the wives in the town, cried, Be-go-laddie, its just like its ain daddy, lang Sandy Tason (or Thomson) we ken by its nose: for Sandy had a great muckle red nose like a lobster-tae, bowed at the point like a hawk’s neb, and Sandy himself said, that it was surely his or some ither body’s, but he had used a’ his birr at the getting o’t, to fey his ability, being the first time e’er he was at sic a business before, and when he had done a’ that man could do at it, said, it was nonsense and shamefa’ him, but he wad rather row his boat round the Bass and back again, or he did the like again: For Wise Willy gade wood at the wean, and said, it had mair ill nature in’t, than the auldest wife about the town, it piss’d the bed, and shute the bed, skirl’d like a wil-cat, and kept him frae his night’s rest; and a’ the auld haggs about the town, ca’d him Sandy de bairn’s daddy, and a’ the young gilly-gawkie lasses, held out their fingers, and cried, Tie, hie, Sandy, the kirk will kittle your hips for yon yet.
And after a’, the blear-ein’d bell-man came bladdering about the buttock-mail, summoned him and her before the hally-band, a court that held in the kirk on Saturday morning; and a’ the bred ladies[180] round about, cried, Ay, ay, Sandy, pay the bill-siller, or we’ll cut the cow’s tail awa’, so poor Sandy suffered sadly in the flesh, besides the penalty and kirk-penance.
But Wise Willy had pity upon them, and gade wi’ them to the kirk-court, what learned folks call the session, Jenny was first called upon, and in she goes where all the hally-band were conveened, elders and youngers, deacons, and dog-payers keeping the door, the cankerdest Carles that could be gotten between Dysart and Dubby-side, white heads and bald heads sitting wanting bonnets, wi’ their white headed staves and hodden-grey jockey-coats about them.
Mess John says, Come away Janet, we’re a’ waiting on you here.
Min. Now Janet, where was this child gotten? you must tell plainly.
Jan. A deed stir, it was gotten amang the black stanes, at the cheek of the crab-holes.