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Riſe! ye drunken beaſt o' Bethel!
Drink's your night and day's deſire;
Riſe this precious hour! or faith I'll
Fling your whiſky i' the fire!"
Drink's your night and day's deſire;
Riſe this precious hour! or faith I'll
Fling your whiſky i' the fire!"
Watty heard her tongue unhallow't
Pay't his groat wi' little din;
Left the houſe, while Maggy fallow't,
Flyting a' the road behin'.
Pay't his groat wi' little din;
Left the houſe, while Maggy fallow't,
Flyting a' the road behin'.
Fowk frae every door cam lampin',
Maggy curſt them ane and a';
Claupit wi' her hauns, and ſtampin',
Loſt her bauchles i' the ſna'.
Maggy curſt them ane and a';
Claupit wi' her hauns, and ſtampin',
Loſt her bauchles i' the ſna'.
Hame at length ſhe turn'd the gavel,
Wi' a face as white's a clout,
Raging like a very devil,
Kicken ſtools and chairs about!
Wi' a face as white's a clout,
Raging like a very devil,
Kicken ſtools and chairs about!
"Ye’ll fit wi' your limmers round you!
Hang you, Sir! I'll be your death!
Little hauds my hands, confound you!
But I cleave you to the teeth."
Hang you, Sir! I'll be your death!
Little hauds my hands, confound you!
But I cleave you to the teeth."
Watty, wha, 'midſt this oration,
Ey'd her whiles, but durſtna' ſpeak,
Sat, like patient Reſignation,
Trim'ling by the ingle cheek.
Ey'd her whiles, but durſtna' ſpeak,
Sat, like patient Reſignation,
Trim'ling by the ingle cheek.
Sad his wee drap broſe he ſippet,
Maggy's tongue gaed like a bell;
Quietly to his bed he ſlippet,
Sighan af'en to himſel':
Maggy's tongue gaed like a bell;
Quietly to his bed he ſlippet,
Sighan af'en to himſel':
"Nane are free frae ſome vexation,
Ilk ane has his ills to dree;
But, thro' a' the hale creation
Is a mortal vext like me?"
Ilk ane has his ills to dree;
But, thro' a' the hale creation
Is a mortal vext like me?"
