Notes.—brae, hill; wan up, got up; gyaun upon, going close upon; braw, excellent; twal, twelve; sattlement, decision; I’se, I will (lit. I shall); sanna, will not; till’s, for us; kent fowk, known people, acquaintances; a’gate, in all ways; hunners, hundreds; fae, from; hyne awa’, hence away, as far off; the tae, the one; the tither, the other; yauws, sails; puckles, numbers, many; dyke, stone fence; orra jaw, various loud talk; mair gedderin’, more gathering; on to, near; deen, done; bit fudder, bit of a rumour (lit. gust of wind); fae, from; fat, what; deein, doing; chaumer’t, chambered, shut up; nyod, a disguised oath; we’ll need, we must; gin, if; win in, get in: bather, bother; at the lang length, at last; carlie, churl; gryte squad, great crowd; gey stoot, rather stout; twa three, two or three; gya, gave; mith, might; nor that, than that; haivers, foolish talk; mou, mouth; uncoest, most uncouth, strangest; styte, nonsense.

[Scottish (Group 7): Ayrshire.]

The following lines are quoted from a well-known poem by Robert Burns (1759-1796).

The Twa Dogs (Cæsar and Luath).

Cæs. “I’ve notic’d, on our Laird’s court-day,
An’ mony a time my heart’s been wae,
Poor tenant bodies, scant o’ cash,
How they maun thole a factor’s snash
He’ll stamp an’ threaten, curse an’ swear,
He’ll apprehend them, poind their gear;
While they maun stan’, wi’ aspect humble,
An’ hear it a’, an’ fear and tremble!
 I see how folk live that hae riches;
But surely poor folk maun be wretches.”
Lu. “They’re no sae wretched’s are wad think;
Tho’ constantly on poortith’s brink,
They’re sae accustom’d wi’ the sight,
The view o’t gies them little fright....
 The dearest comfort o’ their lives,
Their grushie weans an’ faithfu’ wives:
The prattling things are just their pride,
That sweetens a’ their fire-side....
 That merry day the year begins,
They bar the door on frosty win’s;
The nappy reeks wi’ mantling ream,
An’ sheds a heart-inspiring steam;
The luntin’ pipe an’ sneeshin-mill
Are handed round wi’ right good will;
The cantie auld folks crackin’ crouse,
The young anes ranting thro’ the house—
My heart has been sae fain to see them
That I, for joy, hae barkit wi’ them!”...
 By this, the sun was out o’ sight,
An’ darker gloamin’ brought the night:
The bum-clock humm’d wi’ lazy drone,
The kye stood rowtin’ i’ the loan;
When up they gat, an’ shook their lugs,
Rejoic’d they were na men but dogs;
An’ each took aff his several way,
Resolv’d to meet some ither day.

Notes.—wae, sorrowful; maun thole, must endure, must put up with; factor’s snash, agent’s abuse; poind, seize upon, sequester; gear, property; hae, have; no sae, not so; wad, would; poortith, poverty; grushie, of thriving growth, well-grown; weans, children; win’s, winds; nappy, foaming ale; reeks, smokes; ream, cream; luntin’, smoking, emitting smoke; sneeshin-mill, snuff box; cantie, merry; crackin’, conversing; crouse, with good spirits; ranting, running noisily; fain, glad; gloamin’, twilight; bum-clock, beetle (that booms); kye, cows; rowtin’, lowing; loan, milking-place; lugs, ears.

[Scottish (Group 8): Edinburgh.]

The following stanzas are from The Farmer’s Ingle, a poem by Robert Fergusson (1750-1774), a native of Edinburgh.

Whan gloming grey out o’er the welkin keeks,
Whan Batie ca’s his owsen to the byre,
Whan Thrasher John, sair dung, his barn-door steeks,
And lusty lasses at the dighting tire:
What bangs fu’ leal the e’enings coming cauld,
And gars snaw-tappit winter freeze in vain,
Gars dowie mortals look baith blythe and bauld,
Nor fley’d wi’ a’ the poortith o’ the plain;
Begin, my Muse, and chant in hamely strain.