BUT soon cam in, an' stapt her study,
A silly, faichless, beggar bodie.
The tatter'd remnants o' her claes
Look'd like remains o' better days:
Tho' young in years, seem'd auld in grief,
An' faintly, sought some sma' relief.
Within her wither'd, weary'd arm
There lay a silly, thrawart bairn,
Wi' cauld an' hunger black and blue,
That seem'd to swap some face she knew.
The waefu' thing began to greet;
She bade her come an' warm its feet;
Then sigh'd, and pity'd sair her lot,
An' ga'e her kail, warm frae the pot.
Then in cam Kate, an' did her e'e,
Says, “Honest woman, whar live ye?
Ha'e ye a man; or is he dead,
That ye've sae early try'd the trade?”
The waefu' bodie hang her head.
“Indeed, guidwife, I've niest to nane,
Altho I chanc'd to hae this wean.
Some's born to poortith, some to plenty;
Some ne'er doe weel, tho' e'er so tentie.
My fouks a' died whan I was wee,
An' now I'm come to what ye see;
An' a' by a fause merchan' lown,
Lives het an' fou within the town.
He has brought me to muckle shame,
An' hurt my peace, my health, an' name.”
Quo' Kate, “Can that be Mister Din?”
“Indeed,” quo' she, “the vera ane.
My gutcher, too, now he's awa',
That liv'd within the Rattan Raw—
Ye aiblins kent him—Andro Reid—
He seldom saw the faut I did.
So I got plenty o' my will;—
We liv'd by selling hame-brewn ale.
Rab aft cam' owre at gloamin's e'e,
To tak a drap, an' crack wi' me.
He soon turn'd mair than common kind;
But I cou'd never bow my mind,
Tho' he wou'd vow an' praise my face,
Till ance the priest had said the grace;
But by his devilish Judas skill
He soon brought a' things to his will:
He said he had some secret en's,
Forbye the ang'rin o' his frien's;
But for to shaw that he was kin',
An' put a' doubts out o' my min',
He kent a priest that lived near by,
Wha soon our haun's an hearts wou'd tie;
But I shou'd stay at hame as yet,
Till 'ance we saw a time mair fit.
Alas! I sawna whar I ran,
Like ithers, fond to get a man,
Owre deep for me the scheme was laid,
I deem't it gospel a' he said;
For what we wish we soon believe,
Which gars me now baith greet an' grieve.
The priest turn'd out—what need I tell,
A masked villain like himsel'.
I o' him now began to doubt,
For he cam' seldomer about;
An' whan I ru'd, an' vow'd, an' grat,
He sooth'd me on wi' this an' that.
We carry'd on a time o' sinnin',
(For evil needs but a beginnin',)
Till, by our frequent bein' thegither,
I fand I soon wou'd be a mither.
Sae whan it cou'd nae mair be hid,
'Twas then I o' my spark got rid;
He shunn'd me now where'er we met,
An' scarce a word I e're cou'd get;
Then whan I gaed to speak to him,
He ay was thrang, or no within.
So now my gutcher I maun tell,
Whan I cou'd hardly gang mysel'.
His time-worn cheek yet paler grew,
The dim red frae his fa'en lip flew;
“Oh! luckless bairn—this for my care”—
He saw my tears, and said nae mair,
But took his staff, awa' he set,
But an unholie welcome gat.
Rab wou'd do nought but curse and swear,
An' ca' me names I ill cou'd bear;
Deny'd our marriage, time, an' place,
An' said he hardly kend my face,
An' wou'd advise us, as a friend,
To gang to some I better kend,
For gif we gae him mair abuse,
He'd tak' us to a bigger house.
We try't the law; the law was vain,
It only brought expence an' pain;
He took it to a higher Court;
We hadna siller to gi'e for't;
A poind was ea'd, we maun remove,
For sayin' things we cou'dna prove.
Feeble, in want an' sair disgrace,
We wistna whar to shaw our face.
My gutcher cheer'd me, said his pray'rs;
But grief brought down his auld grey hairs,
An' ere this wee thing saw the light,
His e'en were clos'd in endless night,
An' left us, at its luckless birth,
Twa waefu' outcasts on the yirth.”
Nae mair she said, wi' grief opprest,
But sighs an' sabs made out the rest.
The bairnie leuk'd wi' piteous e'e,
An' skreech'd, an' wail'd, an' clasp'd her knee.—
So feeble ivy roun' doth clim'
Yon leafless tree hangs o'er the linn.
“His presence bless us a'!” quo' Kate,
“The creature's in an unco state;
If a' be true that she has said,
He's a debaush'd an dev'lish blade.”
While Betty's wheel ceas'd to gang roun',
She jimply 'scapit frae a swoon;
Her rock turn'd yellow, green, and blue;
She fand hersel' she kentna how;
An' cry'd out loud, “I winna hae him!”
Quo' Kate, “The Lord defend us frae him!
Or ony ane o' sic like kin'
Shou'd ere be boun' to me or mine.”
So John was tald o' a' that past;
An' a' took out a full protest.
A silly, faichless, beggar bodie.
The tatter'd remnants o' her claes
Look'd like remains o' better days:
Tho' young in years, seem'd auld in grief,
An' faintly, sought some sma' relief.
Within her wither'd, weary'd arm
There lay a silly, thrawart bairn,
Wi' cauld an' hunger black and blue,
That seem'd to swap some face she knew.
The waefu' thing began to greet;
She bade her come an' warm its feet;
Then sigh'd, and pity'd sair her lot,
An' ga'e her kail, warm frae the pot.
Then in cam Kate, an' did her e'e,
Says, “Honest woman, whar live ye?
Ha'e ye a man; or is he dead,
That ye've sae early try'd the trade?”
The waefu' bodie hang her head.
“Indeed, guidwife, I've niest to nane,
Altho I chanc'd to hae this wean.
Some's born to poortith, some to plenty;
Some ne'er doe weel, tho' e'er so tentie.
My fouks a' died whan I was wee,
An' now I'm come to what ye see;
An' a' by a fause merchan' lown,
Lives het an' fou within the town.
He has brought me to muckle shame,
An' hurt my peace, my health, an' name.”
Quo' Kate, “Can that be Mister Din?”
“Indeed,” quo' she, “the vera ane.
My gutcher, too, now he's awa',
That liv'd within the Rattan Raw—
Ye aiblins kent him—Andro Reid—
He seldom saw the faut I did.
So I got plenty o' my will;—
We liv'd by selling hame-brewn ale.
Rab aft cam' owre at gloamin's e'e,
To tak a drap, an' crack wi' me.
He soon turn'd mair than common kind;
But I cou'd never bow my mind,
Tho' he wou'd vow an' praise my face,
Till ance the priest had said the grace;
But by his devilish Judas skill
He soon brought a' things to his will:
He said he had some secret en's,
Forbye the ang'rin o' his frien's;
But for to shaw that he was kin',
An' put a' doubts out o' my min',
He kent a priest that lived near by,
Wha soon our haun's an hearts wou'd tie;
But I shou'd stay at hame as yet,
Till 'ance we saw a time mair fit.
Alas! I sawna whar I ran,
Like ithers, fond to get a man,
Owre deep for me the scheme was laid,
I deem't it gospel a' he said;
For what we wish we soon believe,
Which gars me now baith greet an' grieve.
The priest turn'd out—what need I tell,
A masked villain like himsel'.
I o' him now began to doubt,
For he cam' seldomer about;
An' whan I ru'd, an' vow'd, an' grat,
He sooth'd me on wi' this an' that.
We carry'd on a time o' sinnin',
(For evil needs but a beginnin',)
Till, by our frequent bein' thegither,
I fand I soon wou'd be a mither.
Sae whan it cou'd nae mair be hid,
'Twas then I o' my spark got rid;
He shunn'd me now where'er we met,
An' scarce a word I e're cou'd get;
Then whan I gaed to speak to him,
He ay was thrang, or no within.
So now my gutcher I maun tell,
Whan I cou'd hardly gang mysel'.
His time-worn cheek yet paler grew,
The dim red frae his fa'en lip flew;
“Oh! luckless bairn—this for my care”—
He saw my tears, and said nae mair,
But took his staff, awa' he set,
But an unholie welcome gat.
Rab wou'd do nought but curse and swear,
An' ca' me names I ill cou'd bear;
Deny'd our marriage, time, an' place,
An' said he hardly kend my face,
An' wou'd advise us, as a friend,
To gang to some I better kend,
For gif we gae him mair abuse,
He'd tak' us to a bigger house.
We try't the law; the law was vain,
It only brought expence an' pain;
He took it to a higher Court;
We hadna siller to gi'e for't;
A poind was ea'd, we maun remove,
For sayin' things we cou'dna prove.
Feeble, in want an' sair disgrace,
We wistna whar to shaw our face.
My gutcher cheer'd me, said his pray'rs;
But grief brought down his auld grey hairs,
An' ere this wee thing saw the light,
His e'en were clos'd in endless night,
An' left us, at its luckless birth,
Twa waefu' outcasts on the yirth.”
Nae mair she said, wi' grief opprest,
But sighs an' sabs made out the rest.
The bairnie leuk'd wi' piteous e'e,
An' skreech'd, an' wail'd, an' clasp'd her knee.—
So feeble ivy roun' doth clim'
Yon leafless tree hangs o'er the linn.
“His presence bless us a'!” quo' Kate,
“The creature's in an unco state;
If a' be true that she has said,
He's a debaush'd an dev'lish blade.”
While Betty's wheel ceas'd to gang roun',
She jimply 'scapit frae a swoon;
Her rock turn'd yellow, green, and blue;
She fand hersel' she kentna how;
An' cry'd out loud, “I winna hae him!”
Quo' Kate, “The Lord defend us frae him!
Or ony ane o' sic like kin'
Shou'd ere be boun' to me or mine.”
So John was tald o' a' that past;
An' a' took out a full protest.