MAUSE.
Of what kind wisdom think ye I'm possest,
That lifts my character aboon the rest?
BAULDY.
The word that gangs, how ye're sae wise and fell,
Ye'll maybe tak it ill gif I should tell.
MAUSE.
What folk say of me, Bauldy, let me hear;
Keep naething up, ye naething have to fear.
BAULDY.
Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a'
That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaw.
When last the wind made Glaud a roofless barn;
When last the burn bore down my mither's yarn;
When Brawny, elf-shot, never mair came hame;
When Tibby kirn'd, and there nae butter came;
When Bessy Freetock's chuffy-cheeked wean
To a fairy turn'd, and cou'dna stand its lane;
When Wattie wander'd ae night thro' the shaw
And tint himsell amaist amang the snaw;
When Mungo's mare stood still and swat wi' fright,
When he brought east the howdy under night;
When Bawsy shot to dead upon the green;
And Sara tint a snood was nae mair seen;—
You, lucky, gat the wyte of a' fell out;
And ilka ane here dreads ye round about,—
And say they may that mint to do ye skaith:
For me to wrang ye I'll be very laith;
But when I neist make groats, I'll strive to please
You with a firlot of them mixt with pease.
MAUSE.
I thank ye, lad!—Now tell me your demand;
And, if I can, I'll lend my helping hand.