‘To put them in heat,’ said the Farmer.
At supper that night the Farmer’s porridge was hot and he blew on it.
‘What are thou doing that for?’ said the Fynoderee. ‘Isn’t it hot enough for thee?’
‘It’s too hot, it is; I’m blowing on it to cool it,’ said the Farmer.
‘I don’t like thee at all, boy,’ said the Fynoderee, ‘for thou can blow hot and blow cold with one breath.’
The Fynoderee was wearing no clothes, but it is said that he never felt the cold. Big Gordon, however, had pity on him that he had none, and one frosty winter he went and got clothes made for him—breeches, jacket, waistcoat and cap—great big ones they were too. And he went and gave them to him in the barn one night. The Fynoderee looked on them and took them up, and says he:
Coat for the back is sickness for the back!
Vest for the middle is bad for the middle!
Breeches for the breech is a curse for the breech!
Cap for the head is injurious for the head!