(7)
Now Highland Donald thump'd his wife,
he ſwore ſhe was not civil,
And to get quit, he'd part with life,
and ſend her to the Devil.
THE MALTMAN.
THE maltman comes on Munday,
he craves wonder fair,
Cries "Dame come gi'e me my ſiller,
"or malt ye ſall ne'er get mair."
I took him into the pantry,
and gave him ſome cock-broo,
Syne paid him upon a gantree,
as hoſtler-wives ſhould do.
When maltmen come for ſiller,
and gaugers wi' wands o'er ſoon,
Wives, tak them a' down to the cellar,
and clear them as I ha'e done.
This bewith, when cunzie is ſcanty,
will keep them frae making din;
The knack I learn'd frae an auld aunty,
the ſnackeſt o' a' my kin.
The maltman is right cunning,
but I can be as ſlee,
An' he may crack o' his winning,
whan he clears ſcores wi' me;
⟨For⟩ come whan he likes, I'm ready,
but if frae hame I be,
Let him wait on our kind Lady,
ſhe'll anſwer a bill for me.
