For the woman was fonder of lying a-bed in the morning than sitting at her milking stool; indeed the neighbours had it to say that she wore out more blankets than shoes. Many a day her man would be going out early as hungry as a hawk, without a bite or a sup in him. One morning when he came in from work for his breakfast there was no fire—his wife was never up. Well, my poor man had nothing for it but to get his own breakfast ready and go back to his work. When he came in for dinner it happened as it had happened for breakfast.
‘Bad luck to her laziness,’ he thought; ‘this is coul comfort for a poor man, but I’ll play a trick on her for it.’
And with that he fetched a bart of straw and bunged the two windows of his house. Then he went back to his work.
The sun had not yet set when he came home in the evening. His wife was lying in bed waiting for day.
‘Aw, woman,’ he shouted, ‘make haste an’ get up to see the sun rise in the wes’.’
Up jumped the wife and ran to the door just as the sun was going down, and the sight terrified her. The whole sky looked like fire, and she thought that the end of the world had come. But next morning it all happened as it had happened before, and himself said to her:
‘Kirry, it’s the Buggane, sure enough, that’ll be having thee one of these days if thou don’t mend thy ways!’
‘What Buggane?’ said she.
‘Ax me no questions,’ said he, ‘an’ I’ll tell thee no lies. But it’s the big, black, hairy fellow that lies under the Spooyt Vooar that I’m meanin’.’
‘Aw, houl yer tongue, man; thou don’t frecken me wi’ thy Bugganes,’ shouted the woman.