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 Blues'. Dryster Joek was sitting eraeky, Wi' Pate Tamson o' the Hill, " Come awa'," quo Johnny, “ Watty! Haith we'se bae anither gill." Watty glad to see Joek Jabos, And sae mony neibours roun'; Kieket frae his shoon the snawbas, Syne ayont the fire sat down. Owre a board wi' bannoeks heapet, Cheese, and stoups, and glasses stood; Some were roaring, itlers sleepit, Ithers quietly chewt their eudo. Jock was selling Pate some tallow, A' the rest a raeket hel', A' but Watty, wha, poor fellow, Sat and smoket by himsel'. Mungo filled him up a teothfu', Drank his health and Meg's in ano, Watty, puffing out a mouthfu', Pledged him wi' a dreary grace.
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