Min. A. dear John but ye speak indifferently about this matter, ye know not the nature of it.
Jock. A mony thanks to you Mess John, now cause you hae chrisened baith my bairn an my bystart, I hope you'll forgive me the buttock mail.
Min. John I desire you to be silent and to speak none here: You must keep a straight walk in time coming, free of scandal or offence.
Jock. Ay stir, an how think you the like o' me can wa'k straight wi' sic auld shevelin heel'd shune as mine, amang sic rugh rigs, highs an hows as I hae to harl through.
Min. I need not speak to you, you are but a poor mean ignorant person.
Jock. Na stir, weel awat am neither poor nor yet mean, my mither's fairly yerdet now, guid be thanket, an left a' she had to Maggy an me.
Min. But hear ye this John, ye must not kiss any other woman but your own wife, live justly like another honest christian, and you'll come to die well.
Jock. A black end on me stir, an ever I lay a unlawfu' leg upon hissie again, an they sude lie down to me, while our Maggy lasts; an for dying there's nae fear o' that, but I'll no get fair play if ye an the aulder fouk in the parish be not dead before me, so I hae done wi' ye now.
AN EPITAPH.
HERE lies the dust of John Bell's Mither,
Against her will, death brought her hither;
Clapt in this hole, hard by his dady
Death snatch'd her up, ere she was ready;
Lang might she liv'd were't not her wame,
But wha can live beyond their time?
There none laments her but the Suter,
So here she lies looking about her;
Looking about her! how can that be?
Yea, she sees her state better than we.
