Poor Sawny had a terrible night o’t, wi’ a sair head, and a sick heart, his een stood in his head, his wame caddled like onny mill trows,[41] and a’ his puddings crocket like a wheen paddocks in a pool; his mither rocket and wrang her hands, crying a wae be to the wife that brew’d it! for I hae lost a well foster’d bairn, wi’ their stinking stuff, a meikle deel ding the doup out o’ their ca’dron, my curse come on them and their whisky pots, its burnt him alive, ay, ay, my bairn he’s gone.
But about the break of day, his wind brake like the bursting of a bladder; O happy deliverance! cried Mary his mither, tho’ dirt bodes luck,[42] and foul farts files the blankets, I wish ne’er war be amang us. The next thing that did Sawny good was, three mutchkins o’ milk made in thin brose, and a fine pickle pepper in them, yet he had a soughing in his lugs like a saw-mill, and every thing ran round about wi’ him a’ that day. Yet his mother got him out o’ the bed, on o’ the meikle chair, a pair o’ blankets about his shoulders, a cod at his back, and a hot brick to his soles, to gar him true he was nae well; and there he sat like a lying-in wife, cracking like a Hollander, and ate twa dead herrin and a cufe,[43] telling a’ the outs and ins about his bridal, and whan it was to be; for he had gotten every body’s consent but the bride’s about it.
Mither. But Sawny man that’s the main thing, ye maun hae that too.
Sawny. Na, na, mither am the only thing myself, she’s but a member, the men maun ay be foremost, gang what way it will, I’se ay be the uppermost.
Mither. But Sawny man, what way is thou gaun to do? will ye mak a pay penny wedding?[44] or twa three gude neighbours, a peck o’ meal baken, wi’ a cheese, and a barrel o’ ale, will that do?
Sawny. Na, na, mither, I’ll take a cheaper gate nor ony o’ them; I’ll gar haf-a-crown and haf-a-mutchkin or a rake o’ coals do it a’, then a body has nae mair a-do but piss and then go to bed syne.
Mither. Na, na, my man Sawny, I have mony, mony a time, heard thy honest father say, that never a ane wad do well that cap-strided the kirk, or cuckol’d the minister.[45]
Sawny. A tell na me mither, o’ the ministers; they’re ay for their ain hands as well as other fouks, an’ if a poor beggar body had a bit wean to chrisen, the deil a doit they feike him o’t.
Mither. Hute awa man, there’s nae body has weans, but what has siller to pay the chrissening o’ them; or if they be that poor they sude na get nae weans, and they wad na be fash’d syne.