I’m gaun o’er the moor till woo,
Carline, is your daughter ready?[47]
Now poor Sawny altho’ he sang, was as pale as a ghost from the grave, his face was whitly white, like a well bleatch’d dish-clout, he looked just as he had been eaten and spued again; but at length he came to the bride’s door, and in he goes wi’ a brattle, crying how is a’ here the day? an’ what’s com’d o’ thy mither lassie? O Saunders said the bride she’s awa’ to the town, what came o’ you yesterday, she waited on you the whole day; ye gart her lose a day’s trade lad, and she is away this morning cursing like a heathen, an’ swearing be-go that ye hae geen her a begunk.
Sawny. A dole woman, I took a sudden blast o’ the hame gawn, an’ was never so near dead in my life.
An’ wha think you was in company wi’ Kate the bride, but the wee button of a taylor, who sat and sewed on a table, cocking like a t—d on a trencher, but when he kend wha was com’d he leaped down on the floor, custe a dash o’ pride like a little bit prince, he bobet about, and so out he goes with the tear in his eye, and his tail between his feet like a haff worried colly-dog.
Sawny. Now Katty do ye ken what I’m com’d about?
Kate. O yes my mither tell’d me, but I’m no ready yet, I have twa gowns to spin, and things to mak.[48]
Sawny. Hute, things to mak, ye have as mony things as ye’ll need woman, canna ye spin gowns in your ain house wi’ me, as right as here wi’ an auld girning mither?