Dougal Graham

“ A deed stir, there was twa o' them, but there is ane o' them dead.
Just. A well then John, you'll have the more to give to the one that's alive.
Jock. O! but stir, it's my ain wean that's dead, the ane I got wi' my wife; I dinna ken whither the tither be mine or no.
Just. Yours or no sir, when ye told me ye got it; if ye should get it wi' a beggar wife at the back of a dyke, what is that to the purpose, when it is of your getting, you must maintain it?
Jock. O! yes, stir, I'm no refusing to gie't meat an meal to maintain it; but my mither winna let me to the black-stool. ”

“ Deed, mither, I doubt death has something to do wi you, for there s a rumbling in a' your weame like an auld kirning.
Mith. Hout, tout, I canna hear o't, but they'll be nae fear o' me now. I'm safe at my ain door, thanks to thee and the auld beast it brought me. Heat my feet wi' the bannock stane, and lay me in my bed, fling four pair o' blankets and a canno's on me, I'll be well enough, an ance I were better. Swieth, Maggy, gie me a cogfu' o' milk brose, and a plack's worth o' spice in them; nae fear o' an auld wife, as lang as she's loose behin', an can tak meat. ”

“ Jockey. Hey Maggy wilt thou stay and tak kent fouk hame wi' ye the night?
Maggy. Wiltu come awa' than Johnny, I fain wad be hame or the kye come in; our meikle Riggy is sic a rumbling royte, she rins ay thro' the byre, and sticks a' the bits o' couties; my mither is na able to haud her to her ain stake.
Jock. Hute, we'll be hame in bra' time woman; And how is a' your fouks at hame.
Mag. Indeed I canna well tell you, man, our guidame is a' gane wi' the gut; my mither is very frail, my father he's ay wandering about and widdling amang the beasts. ”

“ Na, mither, 'tis no a christened creature yet; for it has neither gotten the words nor the water; nor as little do I ken how to ca't yet.
Mar. I wat well it's a very uncanny thing to keep about a house, or yet to meet in the morning, a body wanting a name.
Mith. Hout, out ay, ye it's auld wives is fu' o' frits, an' religious fashions: them that look to frits, frits follow them; but it is six and thirty years since I was a married wife, an I never kend a Sabbath day by anither ane, mony a time till the bell rang. ”

“ Jockey's mither fell a fliting, and he himself a rubbing his lugs, and riving his hair, saying, O gin I were but a half ell higher, I sud be a soger or it be lang: and gie me a good flail or a corn fork, I sud kill Frenchmen enew, before I gade to face yon flyting ministers, an be set up like a warld's wonder, on their cock-stool or black-stool, and wha can bide the shame, when every body looks to them, wi' their sacken sarks or gowns on them, like a piece of an auld canvas prickt about a body, for naething but what every body does amaist, or they be married as well as me. ”

“ Dinna be angry. Maggy, my wife to be, but I have beard my mither saying in her daffing, that fouk soud ay try gin their house will haud their plenishen.
Mag. Ay, but Johnny, a wife is ae thing and a house anither, a man that's amind to marry a woman he'll no mak her a whore.
Jock. It's a' true Maggy, but fouks may do it yence or they be married; and no hae ony ill in their minds.
Mag. Aha Johnny money a ane has been beguil'd wi' yence, and do it yence ye may do it ay; what, and we get a bastard, and hae to suffer for the foul act of fornieation. ”

“ No to compare a cat to a creature, the yell cats is never kind to kittens, an the maiden's bairns is a' unco weel bred.
Jock. Na, na, ye're a mista'en, mither; Maggy has milk yet, for every pap she has is like a burn pig; I'se warrand you they'll haud pints the piece.
Mith. My man Johnny, let them keep the wean that has the wean; we'll never miss a pockfu' o' meal, now an then I wadna hae my bed pist, and blankets rotten for a bow o' the best o't. ”

“ I trow, Jock lad, their Black stool o' sham repentance ne'er got sic a rattle as I hae gien't the day.
Jock. Na, na, mither, a' the whore-mongers that ever set a hip on't kens na sae muckle about the auld foundation on't as ye do.
Mith. But Johnny man, gin thou wad start in the morning, the first o' the daft days, and that's on Munday, ye an I wad gae to see that daft jade Jenny, the mither o't.
Jock. Wi' a' my heart mither: but we maun gie't something, gin it were an auld sarvet or an auld sark to keep the hips o't warm; young weans are aye wet about the arse, ye ken. ”

“ A mither, mither, I doubt there's mair ado wi' you nor a dish to lick; when ye refuse guid milk meat, I'm doubtfu' your mouth be gaun to the mules.
Mither. A dear Johnny, I'm no willen to die if I cou'd do better; but this will be a fair winter on auld frail fouks, yet an I wou'd grow better I might live these twenty years yet, an be nae auld wife for a' that: but alake a day there is e'en mony auld fouk dying this year.
Jock. A deed, mither, there is fouk dying the year that never died before. ”

“ A foul be your gabs, ye're a sae gash o' your gabbies; a wheen fools that stives up your gutses wi' guid meat, to gar the worms turn wanton an wallop in your wames; feed yourselves as I do, wi' hacket kail, brose made o' groat meal, an gray meal, sand, seeds, dust an weak shilling, ony thing is good enough to fill the guts an mak at———d o'.
Jock. Na, na mither, an the wean wad suck our Maggy, I sud tak it hame in my oxter. ”

“ Up gets Jockey an rins o'er the rigs for John Roger's wife, auld Kitty the howdy, but or he wan back she parted wi' Patrick thro' perfect spite an then lay twa fauld o'er a stool in a swoon.
Jock. A well, a well, sirs, since my first born is e'en dead without seeing the light o' the warld, ye's a' get bread an cheese to the blyth-meat, the thing we shou'd a war'd on the banket will fair the burial, an that will ay be some advantage; and Maggy should die, I maun een tak Jenny, the tane is as far a length as the tither; I'se be furnish't wi' a wife between the twa. ”

“ Na, na, he’s a braw young man, and has mair gear nor ilka body kens o', guess an I'll tell you, 'tis Johnny Bell, and his mither sent him to the market just to court me.
Mit. Deed Maggy, ye'll no be ill yoket wi' him, he's a gay well gaun fellow, right spruce, amaist like an ill-far'd gentleman. Hey guidman, do ye hear that our Maggy is gaun to be married an the muck were out.
Father. Na, na, I'll no allow that until the peats be cuffen and hurl'd.
Mag. O Father! 'tis dangerous to delay the like o' that, I like him, and he likes me; 'tis best to strike the iron when 'tis hot. ”

“ Good wife, you need not think your son will pass so, more than others that have been before him, he must actually come before the congregation three Sabbaths, before he he absolved from the scandal, and get the benefit of any church privileges like an honest man. ”

“ Na but, stir, I want baith the words an the water, what ye say to ither fouks, say to me.
Min. A' but, John, you must give security or satisfaction, you're a man under scandal.
Jockey. What the muckle mischief stir, though under scandal, or aboon scandal, will ye refuse to chrisen my wean that's honestly gotten in my ain wife's bed, beneath the blankets; cause I had a bystart, canna ye chrisen the weel coin'd ane, let the bystart stand for its ain skaith without a name. ”

“ Come awa', sirs, for my mither's as dead as a mauk, good be thanket for't; but I'd rather it had a been the black mare, or the muckle rigget cow, for weel a wat I'll e'en miss her, for she was a bra' spinner o' tow; an cou'd a cardet to twa muckle wheels she had nae faut but ane and that was her tongue, but she'll speak nae mair, fy gets a deal or barn door to straught her on, for ay when she was cauld she was unco kankert an ill to cutch, but I'se hae her yerded or Wednesday teen.
Mag. Come, come, says Maggy, we maun hae her drest.
Jock. What does the fool mean? wad ye dress a dead woman! ”

“ Just when she came to be my mither's lass, I never saw her but ance before, an gin I had never seen her, I had never kend her after sic a fashous fashion.
Mess John. How lang was she serving with your mother?
Jock. Just twa haillerts: I got her wi' bairn about a year after she came, and it's no a year yet since I was married.
Mess John. Dear John, there is a contradiction indeed, a woman cannot go two years with child.
Jock. Deed stir, it was then the wean was first gotten. ”

“ Well a wat he's no want that, but an there had a been as muckle din at the getting o' him, as at the bearing o' him, it sude ne'er a been gotten for me: Come, come, gets in Uncle Rabby, the corn riddle fu' o' the three neuket scons, whang down the cheese like peats, eat and drink as at my mither's dradgey, till we forget our sorrow, an then we'll see Mess John about a name till him; since we see 'tis the way o't, that the yonng comes into the warld, an chases out the auld, we maun christen them, an they maun bury us. ”

“ I'm sure mither, I cou'd ne'er get her wi' bairn and my breeks on.
Mith. Na, na, poor simple silly lad, the weans no your's, ilka ane loups on anither, an you'll get the wyte of a' the bystarts round about.
Up gets Maggy wi' a roar, and rives her hair, claws her back, belly an baith her sides; the weed and gut gaes thro' my flesh like lang needles, nails, or elshin irons. Wae be to the day that e'er I saw his face, I had better hae married a tinkler, or a followed the soger, as mony an honest man's dochter has done, and liv'd a het er life than I do. ”

“ Jockey not being used to lie wi' a naked woman, except heads and thraws wi' his mither, gets his twa hands about the bride's neck, and his houghs out o'er her hurdies, saying, I ne'er kist wife nor lass naked before, and for fainness I'll bite you. ”

“ Indeed master minister, I am very easy about repentance, and for your stool, it's a seat am very indifferent abou', for I'm but bashful and as I was never guilty of getting bystarts, before or sin syne, cxcept in thoughts, words, deeds and actions, I think you may e'en let me pess, I suffered enough wi' the clash o' the kintry, and loss o' my ain wean; it was nae bystart, ye canna gar me stand for that.
Mess John. You appear to be such a stupid fellow, the like o' you should neither have lawful child nor bystart, and I admire that such an idiot as you was allowed to be married to any woman ”

“ Ay, ay, mither, though I fell ye needna faun abune me, an gin ye had lyne whar ye lighted first, ye wadna tumbled into the well: 'tis an unco thing that a body canna get a fa' but ye maun fa' abune them: auld ruddoch it thou is, thou might a hauden better by the rumple, an ye wadna a bruised a' my back, wi' your auld hard banes, nor a wat a yoursel sae, an see how ye have drummel'd a' John Davie's well. ”

“ Deed stir, it was then the child was first gotten.
Mess John. A John, John, I find you out to be a sinful liver, you and that woman has had carnal dealings for some time; it is ill keeping the cow out of the corn, if she once get a way of going to it, ye should actually have married the poor woman, when ye cohabited so long together.
Jock. No, stir, we didna cow-habit together, tho' she kist me, an I kist her, sometimes in the barn, an sometimes in the byre: nane ken't o't but my mither, an she wadna let me tak her, but sent me awa to court our Maggy. ”

“ Where are you now my bairn? says his mither, ye're bebet, an I'll bring the bride to lie down wi' you. Na, na, said he, I'll no lye with that unco woman indeed, if it binna heads an thraws, the way I lie with my mither? O gie, dinna affront yoursel. The bride ga's a crying, O mither! mither! was this the way my father guided you the first night? Na, na, thy father was a man of manners and better mettle? poor thing, Meg, thou's cau'd thy hogs to a bonny market. A bonny market says his mither, a shame fa' you and her baith he's wordy o' her tho' she were better nor what she is, or e'er will be. ”

“ Then the ill thief be in his arse Mess John gin e'er he set his hip upon't, my bairn on your black-stool! an wadna't be a great blunder on the auld black face o't, to my son to gang on't before the young laird, who has had twa bystarts an ne'er set a hip on't yet, an he's continually riding on the hissies to this day, an them that wadna let him, he rives their duds, an kicks their doups. A dear Mess John, an ye gie gentle fouk a toleration to whore, to fornicate, kiss an cuddle a wee wi' ilka body they like, I'll gie you ten marks an gie't to me an my son too. ”

“ O mither I canna lea't I like it sae weel, it has twa bonny glancing een, just like mine in a keeking glass, I wonner how I was able to get the like o't, indeed mither I think mair o't, nor I do o' my gray horse, Maggy an the four kye,
Mit. My man Johnny, ye're at nae strait about bairns getting, nane needs to gang to London to learn that auld trade; I ken very weel when ane gets warklooms right to their hands, nature will teach them how to fa' to. ”

“ John's mither enters, and addresses herself to the servant lass, thinking she was the justice's lady.
Indeed mistress madam, if ye were a kintry guidewife like mysel, I could tell you a about it, but you that's gentles, I canna use freedom wi' you, because I hae na Latin. But wae's me, we that's poor fouk is born to many feelins an backward faus; this lad is my son, and I'm his mother, he has had the foul fortune to get a bystart bairn, no doubt but we hae been a' guilty o' as muckle, and ne'er a word about it a'. ”

“ A cauld be your cast kimmer, do you think it your dadeling daughter's a match fit for my son John: I think less may sair, her father was but a poor cotter carle, and our John's father was a farmer; and altho' they hae fa'en foul o' ither, I think nae sairly o't, its but a trick o' youth, and the course of youdeth maun be out; but she may thank good fortune, and tell her friends, ay, an count it credit that ever she bore a bystart to the like o' him; a good, fu', fat farmer's son, but ae step higher nor a laird.
Mar. A wae be to sic a credit it's no worth the cracking o' ”

“ An ye had been as great an instrogator against making her double ribbet, as ye're now against doing her justice, for the filthy jimcrack he's gi'en her, ye wadna need to ca' her silly lown the day, an him an honest man; but the ne'er an honest man wad a hoddl'd sae lang en ae poor hissie aud then gane awa' and married anither for the love o' a pickle auld clouts, an twa three pockfu's o' tow: an she is a silly lown indeed that lute him or ony rattle-scull else shake their tail sae lang upon her, without his faith, an his troth an his fist before the minister. ”