The dinner-hour in the hairst (harvest) field was the most delightful of all. The somewhat weary workers lay on the ground, or leant their backs against the stocks. Mrs. M‘Crae herself, with Elsie and Geordie, brought the dinner, and there was no want of appetite. The milk was of the creamiest, the mashed potatoes like snow, the oatcakes crisp and delicious, and the herrings done to a turn. Then there was curds and cream by way of dessert, to say nothing of “swack” cheese, and potato-scones to finish up with.
The happy harvesters felt like giants refreshed, and there would still be half-an-hour to rest.
That half-hour, however, was not spent in drowsy listlessness or sleep itself. No, for the laugh and the joke went round; then Willie or Sandie would always raise a song, a song with a chorus, and it was sweet to hear the girlish voices of Tibbie and Jeannie chiming musically in with this chorus.
Willie would have been nobody if he couldn’t have indulged in his joke, and there was one song he sang, the chorus of which, it will be admitted, was very witty indeed—that is, if brevity be the soul of wit.
Every line ended with the words—
“And the wind blew the bonnie lassie’s plaidie awa’!”
Then “Chorus,” Sandie would shout.
Chorus—“Plaidie awa!”
But the song made everybody laugh all the same, and so some considerable good was accomplished by it.
. . . . . .