9
And airted by the line o' light,
Made straight to Johnnie's door.
Now whether is this a rich man's house,
Or whether is it a poor?
But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speak,
For the barring of the door.
And first they ate the white puddings,
And syne they ato the black:
O muckle thought our gudewife to herse
But ne'er a word she spake.
The young ane to the auld ane said,
Here, man, take ye my knife,
And gang and shave the gudeman's board,
While I kiss the gudewife.
But there's nae water in the house,
And what shall I do than?—
What ails ye at the pudding broo,
That's simmering in the pan?
O, up then started our gudeman,
An angry man was he—
Will ye kiss my wife afore my face,
And scaud me wi' pudding bree,
An' up an' started our gudewife,
Gae three skips o'er the floor,
Gudeman, ye've spoke the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door
