“Gie me the stuff for the coo,” said she; “the morn will do weel eneuch for him, puir body. Gin he were to dee I could sune get another man, but I’m no sure that I could sae sune get anither coo.”
The late Rev. Dr. Begg, was wont to tell of a Scotch woman to whom a neighbour said, “Effie, I wonder hoo ye can sleep wi’ sae muckle debt on your heid;” to which Effie quietly answered, “I can sleep fu’ weel; but I wonder hoo they can sleep that trust me.”
“Are you a native of this parish?” asked a sheriff of a witness who was summoned to testify in a case of distilling.
“Maistly, yer honour,” was the reply.
“I mean, were you born in this parish?”
“No, yer honour, I wisna born in this parish; but I’m maistly a native for a’ that.”
“You came here when you were a child I suppose, you mean?” said the sheriff.
“No, sir; I’m here just aboot sax year noo.”
“Then how do you come to be mostly a native of the parish?”