PART III.[181]
Now Wise Willy was so admired for his just judgement in cutting off the sow’s nose, that my Lord in a mocking manner, made him burly-bailie[182] of Bucky-hine. Lang Sandy was provost, and John Thrums, the weaver, was dean of guild, but Witty Eppie had ay the casting vote in a’ their courts and controverses.
There happened one day a running horse to stand at one of their doors, and a child going about, the horse trampled on the child’s foot, which caused the poor child to cry, the mother came running in a passion; crying, A wae be to you for a ’orse it ere ye was born o’ a woman, filthy barbarian bruit it t’ou is, setting your muckle iron lufe on my bairn’s wee fittie, od stir, I’ll drive the hair out o’ your head, gripping the horse by the mane and the twa lugs, cuffing his chafts as if he had been her fellow creature, crying, Be-go-laddie, I’ll gar you as good, I’ll tak you before Wise Willy the bailie, and he will cut aff wi’ de iron lufe, and dan you will be cripple, and gang thro’ the kintry on a barrow, or on twa shule-staffs[183] like Rab the Randy, an a meal-pock about your neck; Her neighbour wife hearing and seeing what past, cried, A ye fool taupy, what gars you say that a ’orse was born o’ a woman, do you think dat a ’orse has a fadder or a midder like you or me, or ony ither body about; a what way do they come to the world dan? A ye fool taupy, divna they whalp like the louses, ae auld ’orse hobbles on anither anes back, and dat whalps a young ’orse: Gosh woman, it wad be ill-far’d to see a woman sitting wi’ a young ’orse on her knee, dighting its arse, and gien it de pap.
The next occasion was Lang Sandy, and Rolloching Jenny’s wedding; which held three days and twa nights, my Lord and my Lady, with several gentlemen and ladies, attended for diversion’s sake,[184] the piper of Kirkcaldy and the fidler of Kinghorn, were both bidden by Wise Willy the bride’s father, and if ony mae came to play unbidden, Wise Willy swore they should sit unsair’d, for these twa should get a’ the siller that was to be gien or won that day, the dinner and dorder-meat sat a’ in Eppie’s college, and the dancing stood in twa rings before the door, and the first day with dunting and dangling of their heels, dang doun the sea-dyke, some tumbled in and some held by the stanes, the fidler fell o’er the lugs an drouket a’ his fiddle, the strings gade out of order, and the tripes turned saft like pudding skins, so the bagpipe had to do for a’, and the fidler got nought to do but sup kail, and pike banes wi the rest o’ them.
Now my Lord’s cook was to order the kettle, but Pate o’ the Pans[185] play’d a sad prat, by casting in twa pounds of candle among the kail, which made them fat, for some could not sup them, for the candle wicks came ay into their cutties like sutter’s lingles in the dish, but some wi’ stronger stomachs, stripped them thro’ their teeth like ratton tails, an said, Mony a ane wad be blythe o’ sic a string to tie their hose wi’ in a pinch; my Lord and the Gentry, Mess John and the clerk were all placed at the head of the table, opposite to the bride, but would sup none of the candle kail. Wise Willy and the Bridegroom served the table, and cried, Sup and a sorrow to you, for I never liked sour kail about my house; when the flesh came, the bride got a ram’s rumple to pick, she takes it up and wags it at my Lord, saying, Ti hie; my Lord, what an a piece is dat? O, said he, bride, that’s the tail-piece, it belongs to you, Me, my Lord, it’s no mine, I never had a ting like dat, it’s a fish tail, see as it wags, it’s a bit o’ a dead beast. O yes, said he, bride, you hit it now; but how come you to eat with your gloves on! Indeed my Lord, there is a reason for dat, I hae scabbit hands. O fy, said he, I cannot believe you, so she pulls down a piece o’ her gloves, and shows him, O yes, said he, I see it is so; Aha, but my Lord, I wish you saw my a—, it’s a’ in ae hatter; O fy, said he, bride, you should not speak so before Ladies and your maiden; I wonder, said he to Wise Willy her father, you do not teach your daughter to speak otherwise. A be my sae, my Lord, ye may as soon kiss her a—, as gar her speak otherwise; I find so, said my Lord, but it lies much in lack of a teacher.[186]
The next dish that was presented on the table, was roasted hens, and the bride’s portion being laid upon her plate, she says to my Lord, will ye let me dip my fowl arse, amang your sauce? Upon my word, and that I will not, said he, if it be as you tell’d me; hout my Lord, it’s no my arse, it’s but de hen’s I mean; O but, said he, bride, it’s the fashion to every one to eat off their own trencher; you may get more sauce, I can manage all mine myself; indeed, my Lord, I thought ye liket me better than ony body; O but, said he, I love myself better than you, bride; Deed my Lord, I think ye’re the best body about the house, for your Lady’s but a stinking pridefu’ jade, she thinks that we sud mak the fish a’ alike, be-go, my Lord, she thinks we sud mak the haddies a’ like herrin, and that we can shape them as the hens do their eggs wi’ deir arse. O bride, said he, you, should not speak ill of my Lady; for she hears you very well: O deed my Lord, I had nae mind o’ that, a well then, said he, drink to me, or them ye like best; then here’s to you a’ de gither, arse o’er head. Very well said, says my Lord, that’s good sense or something like it.
Dinner being over, my Lord desired the bride to dance; Indeed, my Lord, I canna dance ony, but I’ll gar my wame wallop foment yours, and then rin round about as fast as ye can; very well, said he, bride, that will just do, we shall neither kiss nor shake hands, but I’ll bow to you, and ye’ll beck to me, and so we’ll have done.
Now, after dinner and dancing, my Lord exhorted the bride to be a good neighbour, and to gree well, wi’ every body round about, I wat well my Lord, ye ken I did never cast out wi’ nae body but lang Pate o’ de Pans, and he was a’ de wyte o’t, it began wi’ a hiertieing, and a jamffing me about Sandy, de black-stanes and de crab-holes, where de wean was gotten, and then it turn’d to a hub-bub and colly-shangy, an or e’er ye wad said kiss my a—, my Lord, we are aboon ither on the mussel midden, I trow I tell’d him o’ Randy Rob his uncle, his feif-titty it steal’d de sarks and drank de siller, an how his midder sell’d mauky mutton, an mair nor a’ that, a sae did I een, my Lord.
My Lord had a friend of his own who was a captain in the army, who came to visit him, and hearing of the Buckers’ sayings and exploits; was desirous to see them, and my Lord as desirous to put them in a fright, sent his servant, and ordered them, both men and women, to come up before his gate, directly the morn about kail-time, and all that did not come, was to flit and remove out of my Lord’s ground directly, this put the whole of them in great terror, some ran to Wise Willy to see what it mean’d, Willy said, it was before something, and he was sure that death would be the warst o’t, come what will; But Witty Eppie said, I ken weel what’s to come, he’s gaun to mak de men o’ us sogers, and the wives dragoons, because we’ve de best fighters; I ken there is something to come on the town, for our Nancy saw Maggy’s gaist the streen, it was bury’d four ouks syne;[187] a hech co’ Willy, that’s a sign the meal is dear i’ the ither warld, when she comes to think on’t again; we will tak our dinner or we go, we’ll may be ne’er come back again, so away they went lamenting all in a crowd. My Lord and the Captain were looking out at the window to them, the Captain cries to them, To the right about, to which they answered, good bliss you my Lord, what does that man say? Then said my Lord, turn your face to Maggy Millheads, and your arse to the sea; this they did in all haste. And what will we do now? said Willy; no more, said my Lord, but gang away home Willy; O my bows, O my blessings come o’er your bonny face, my Lord, I wish you may never die, nor yet grow sick, nor naebody kill you: ye’re the best Lord I ken on earth, for we thought a’ to be made dead men and sogers, ye’re wiser than a’ the witches in Fife.