WATTY & MEG.
KEEN the frosty winds were blawin',
Deep the sna' had wreath'd the ploughs,
Watty, weary'd a' day sawin',
Dauncrt down to Mungo Blue's.
Dryster Jock was sittin'cracky,
Wi' Pate Tamson o' the Hill,
"Come awa',"quo' Johnny, “Watty!
"Haith we'se ha'e anither gill."
Watty, glad to see Jock Jabos,
An' sae mony neibours roun',
Kicket frae his shoon the sna' ba's,
Syne ayont the fire sat down.
Owre a board, wi' bannocks heapet,
Cheese, an' stoups, an' glasses stood;
Some war roarin', ithers sleepet,
Ithers quietly chew'd their cud.
Jock was sellin' Pate some tallow,
A’ the rest a racket hell,
A' but Watty, wha, poor fellow,
Sat an' smocket by himsel'.
Mungo fill'd him up a toothfu',
Drank his health and Meg's in ane;
Watty, puſfin' out a mouthfu',
Pledg’d him wi' a dreary grane.
