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The wooing being o'er and the day being set, Jockey's mither kill'd the black bull horned yeal ewe that lost her lamb the last year, three hens and a gule fitted cock to prevent the riples, five pecks o' maut masket in the meikle kirn, a pint o' tryke to mak it thicker and sweeter an mumer for the mouth: five pints o' whiskey wherein was garlic and spice, for raising o' the wind and clearing o' their water; the friends and good neighbours went a' wi' John to the kirk, where Maggy chanc'd to meet him, and was married by the minister; the twa companies joined together and came hame in a croud, every change house they chanced to pass by providence stopt their proceeding, with full stoups, bottles and glasses, drinking their healths, wishing them much joy, ten girls and a boy; Jockey seeing so many wishing well to his health, coupt up what he got to augment his health and gar him live long, which afterwards coupt up him, and proved detrimental to the same.
So home they came to the dinner, where his mither presented ⟨to⟩ them a piping hot haggies, made of the crish of the black bull horn'd ewe, boiled in the meikle bag, mix'd with bear meal, onions, spice and mint; this haggies being supt warm, the foaming swats and spice in the liquor set Johnny's belly abizing like a working fat, and he playing het fit to the fidler, was suddenly seized with a bocking and rebounding, gave his dinner such a backward ca', that he lost a' but the girt bits, scythed through his teeth: his mither cried to spence him, and bed him wi' the bride; his breeks being filled, they wash'd baith his hips, laid him in his bed, pale and ghostly was his face, and closed were both his een. Ah! cries his mither, a dismal day indeed, his brithal and his burial may baith be on ae day. Some cuist water in his face, and jag'd him wi' a needle, till he began to rouse himself up and rap out broken words. Mither, mither, whar am I now? Where are you now my bairn? says his mither, ye're bebet, an I'll bring the bride to lie down wi' you. Na, na, said he, I'll no lye with that unco woman indeed, if it binna heads an thraws, the way I lie with my mither? O gie, dinna affront yoursel. The bride ga's a crying, O mither! mither! was this the way my father guided you the first night? Na, na, thy father was a man of manners and better mettle? poor thing, Meg, thou's cau'd thy hogs to a bonny market. A bonny market says his mither, a shame fa' you and her baith he's
