12
baith his een. Ah! cries his mither, a dismal day indeed; his bridal and his burial may be in ae day. Some cuist water in his face, and jag'd him wi a needle, till he began to rouse himself up, and then lisp out some broken words. Mither, mither! cries Jockey, whar am I now? Whar are you now, my bairn, says his mither, ye're bedet, and I'll bring the bride to you. Beded, says Jockey, and is my bridal done else? Ay is't said his mither, and here's the bride come to lie down beside you, my man. Na na, mither, says Jockey, I'll no lie wi an unco woman indeed, and it binna heads and thraws, the way that I lie wi' you, mither. O fy, John, says his mither, dinna affront yoursel' and me baith, tak her in o'er the bed ayont ye, and kiss her, and clap her, and daut her till ye fa' asleep. The bride fa's a-crying out, 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 ca'd thy hogs to a bonny market. A bonny market! says Jockey's mither; a shame fa' you and her baith, he's wordy of her though she were better nor what she is, or e'er will be.—His friends and her friends being a mixed multitude, some took his part, some took her's, there did a battle begin in the clap of a hand, being a very fierce
