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Just coming on- you'll let us bide, Tho' we should sit by the fire side. The Landlord said to him, Na, na, I canna let you bide ava, Chap aff, for tis na worth your while To bide, when ye hae scrimpt twa mile To gang-sae quickly aff you'll steer, For faith, I doubt ye'll na be here. Twa mile! quo' Thrummy, deil speed me, If frae your house this night I jee ; Are we to starve in Christian land ? As lang's my stick bides in my hand, An' siller plenty in my pouch, To nane about your house I'll crouch Landlord, ye needna be sae rude, For faith we'll mak our quarters good. Come, John, lat's in, we'll tak a sate, Fat sorrow gars you look so blate ? Sae in he gangs, and sets him down Says he, there's nae about your town, Sall put me out till a new day, As lang's I've siller for to pay. The Landlord said, Ye're rather rash, To turn your out I canna fash; Since ye've so positive to bide, But troth yese sit. by the fire-side ; I tald ye else of beds I've nane, Unoccupied, except bare ane ;
