When supper was ower, the minister birsled
His shins on the creepie upon the hearth-stane;
Worn out wi’ fatigue, to his roostin-place hirsled,
And laid himsel down wi’ a wearied-man’s grane.
His canny wee wife saw him cozily happit,
Syne drew back the chairs frae the warm ingle-side;
Put creesh in the ee o’ the candle, and clappit
Right kindly and couthily down by his side.
The cracks o’ the twasome were kindly but few:
The minister wi’ a “hech-ho,” turned him roun’,