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fornicate, kiss and cuddle a wee wi' ilka body they like, I'll gie you ten marks and gie t to me an my son too.
Mess John. What shall we do with these odious persons.
Elders. Indeed Sir we see not what we can make of them.
Mess John. Make of them! we'll exclude them from all church benefit, and lay them under the lesser excommunication.
Mith. Indeed stir, tak your mind o't, as our cat did o' the haggies when she sipped it a' an crap in o' the bag.
If ye winna christen the wean, ye canna hinder us to cast a cogfu' o' water on the face o't, and ca't ony thing we like.
So out she goes, shooting Jockey before her: so John went and pisht on the auld minister's widow's gavel, and there was nae mair about it that day.
PART IV.
How Jockey and his Mother went away to see his Bystart child, &c.
Now Jockey and his mither came hame together, chick for chow, cracking like twa hand guns.
Mith. I trow I have fought a battle this day, and win the field condingly, whan I hae conquered a' the canker'd carles about the kirk.
Jock. Indeed mither, I think you are a better man nor the minister, and gin ye had Arithmattock and Latin to ken the kittle figures, ye may preach as well as he.
Mith. I trow, Jock lad, their Black stool o' sham repentance ne'er got sic a rattle as I hae gien't the day.
Jock. Na, na, mither, a' the whore-mongers that ever set a hip on't kens na sae muckle about the auld foundation on't as ye do.
Mith. But Johnny man, gin thou wad start in the morning, the first o' the daft days, and that's on Munday, ye an I wad gae to see that daft jade Jenny, the mither o't.
Jock. Wi' a' my heart mither: but we maun gie't something, gin it were an auld sarvet or an auld sark to keep the hips o't warm; young weans are aye wet about the arse, ye ken.
Mith. Weel then Johnny, I'se cry to thee when the hens begins to kackle, an that's about the break o' day; and we's be ready to tak the road again Torryburn day light, when we'll ken a t—-d frae a stane.
Up gets auld Maggy. Jock's mither, in the morning, puts on the kittle, an makes her Yool sowens; the mickle pot hung on the fire a' night, wi' the cheek of an auld cow's ⟨head⟩. She skims aff the fat and maks a great cog o' Brose; then
