The wyf was up richt late at evin,
I pray God gif her evill to fair!
Scho kyrnd the kyrne, and skumd it clene, 35
And left the gudeman bot the bledoch bair.
Than in the mornyng up scho gatt,
And on hir hairt laid hir disjune;
Scho put als mekle in hir lap,
As micht haif ser[v]d them baith at nune. 40
Sayis, "Jok, will thou be maister of wark,
And thou sall had, and I sall kall;
Ise promise thé ane gude new sark,
Athir of round claith or of small."
Scho lousit oxin aucht or nyne, 45
And hynt ane gad-staff in hir hand;
And the gudman raiss eftir syne,
And saw the wyf had done command.
And caud the gaislingis furth to feid;
Thair was bot sevensum of thame all; 50
And by thair cumis the gredy gled,
And likkit up five, left him bot twa.
Than out he ran in all his mane,
How sune he hard the gaislingis cry;
Bot than or he come in agane, 55
The calfis brak louss and sowkit the ky.
The calvis and ky being met in the lone,
The man ran with ane rung to red;
Than by thair cumis ane ill-willy cow,
And brodit his buttok quhill that it bled. 60
Than hame he ran to an rok of tow,
And he satt doun to say the spynning;
I trow he lowtit our neir the low,
Quoth he, "This wark hes ill begynning."
Than to the kyrn that he did stoure, 65
And jumlit at it quhill he swatt:
Quhen he had jumlit a full lang houre,
The sorrow crap of butter he gatt.
Albeit na butter he could gett,
Yit he wes cummerit with the kyrne, 70
And syne he het the milk our hett,
And sorrow a spark of it wald yirne.
Than ben thair come ane gredy sow,
I trow he cund hir littil thank;
For in scho schot hir mekle mow, 75
And ay scho winkit and scho drank.
He cleikit up ane crukit club,
And thocht to hitt the sow ane rout;
The twa gaislingis the gled had left,
That straik dang baith thair harnis out. 80
[[He gat his foot upon the spyre,]
To have gotten the flesche doune to the pat;
He fell backward into the fyre,
And brack his head on the keming stock.
Yit he gat the mekle pat upon the fyre, 85
And gat twa cannes, and ran to the spout;
Er he came in, quhat thought ye of that?
The fyre brunt aw the pat-a... out.]
Than he beur kendling to the kill,
But scho start all up in ane low; 90
Quhat evir he hard, quhat evir he saw,
That day he had na will to mow.
Then he yeid to tak up the bairnis,
Thocht to haif fund thame fair and clene;
The first that he gat in his armis 95
Was all bedirtin to the ene.
The first that he gat in his armis,
It was all dirt up to the eine;
"The devill cut of thair handes," quoth he,
"That fild you all sa fow this strene." 100
He trailit foull scheitis doun the gait,
Thought to haif wescht thame on ane stane;
The burne wes rissin grit of spait,
Away fra him the scheitis hes tane.
Then up he gat on ane know heid, 105
On hir to [cry], on hir to schout;
Scho hard him, and scho hard him not,
Bot stoutly steird the stottis about.
Scho draif the day unto the night,
Scho lousit the pluch, and syne come hame; 110
Scho fand all wrang that sould bene richt,
I trow the man thought richt grit schame.