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WATTY AND MEG.
Keen the frosty winds were blawing,
Deep the snaw had wreathed the ploughs,
Watty, wearied a' day sawing,
Daunert down to Mungo Blue's,
Dryster Jock was sitting eracky,
Wi' Pate Tamson o' the Hill,
Come awa',’ quo' Johnny, ‘ Watty
Haith we'se hae anither gill.’
Watty glad to see Joek Jabos,
And sae mony neibours roun’;
Kieket frae his shoon the snawba's,
Syne ayont the fire sat down.
Owre a broad wi' bannoeks heapet,
Cheese, and stoups, and glasses stood
Some were roaring, ithers sleepit,
Ithers quietly chew't their cude.
Joek was selling Pate some tallow,
A' the rest a raeket hel',
A' but Watty, wha, poor fallow!
Sat and smoket by himsel'.
