4
Then her din grew less and less ay,
Faith I gart her change her tune;
Now a better wife than Bessy
Never stept in leather sheen.
Try this, Watty, when ye see her
Raging like a roaring flood,
Swear that moment that ye'll lea her,
That's the way to keep her gude.
Laughing, sangs, and lasses' skirls
Echoed now out thro‘ the roof, —
Done quo' Pate, and then his earls
Nail't the dryster's waakit loof.
I’ the thrang o' stories telling,
Shaking hands and ither cheer,
Swith! a chap comes on the challan,
Mungo, is our Watty here?
Maggy's weel kent tongue and harry
Darted through him like a knife,
Up the door flew like a fury,
In cam Watty's scaulding wife:
Nasty gude-for-naething being,
O ye snuffy drucken sow,
Bringing wife and weans to ruin,
Drinking here wi' sic a crew.
Deil nor your twa legs were broken,
Sic a life nae flesh endures,
Toiling night and day to slocken
You, ye dyvor and your whores.
Rise, ye drucken beast o' Bethel,
