THE
HUMOUROUS EXPLOITS
OF
WATTY and MEG.















Deep the ſna' had wreath'd the ploughs,
Watty, weary't a' day ſawin',
Dannert down to Mungo Blue's.
Wi' Pate Tamſon o’ the hill,
"Come awa'," quo' Johny, "Watty,
Haith we'ſe ha'e anither gill."
And ſae mony neighbours roun’,
Kicket frae his ſhoon the ſna'ba's,
Syne ayont the fire ſat down.
Cheeſe and ſtoups, and glaſſes ſtood;
Some war roarin', ithers ſleepit,
Ithers quietly chewt their cude.
A' the reſt a racket hel’,
A' but Watty, wha, poor fellow,
Sat and ſmoket by himſel'.
Drank his health and Meg's in ane;
Watty puffin out a mouthfu',
Pledg'd him wi' a dreary grain.
Trouth your chaſts are ſa'ing in!
Something's wrang—I'm vext to ſee you—
Gudeſafe! but ye’re deſp'rate thin."
But it's paſt redemption now!
For O I wiſh I had been halter'd
When I marry'd Maggy Howe!
Try't wi' troubles no that ſma';
Them I bore—but marrying Maggy
Laid the capſtane o' them a'!
Wi' the weans ſhe ne'er can 'gree;
When ſhe's tir'd wi' perfect ſkelpin',
Then ſhe flies like fire on me!
Wi' her everlaſting clack;
Whyles I've had my nieve, in paſſion,
Liftet up to break her back!"
Mungo ſhook his head and ſaid;
"Weel I ken what ſort o’ life it is!
Ken ye, Watty, how I did?
Soon ſhe grew like ony bear?
Brak my ſhins, and when I ⟨tippl'd⟩
Harl’t out my very hair!
But when naething would prevail,
Up my claes and caſh I buckl't,
Beſs, for ever fore you weel;
Haith I gart her change her tune:
Now a better wife than Beſſy,
Never ſtept in leather ſhoon.
Raging like a roaring flood,
Swear that moment that ye'll lea' her!
That's the way to keep hec gude."
Echo'd now out-thro' the roof;
Done! quo' Pate, and ſyne his erls
Nail't the Dryſter's wauket loof.
Shakin hauns, and ither cheer,
Swith! a chap comes on the hallan,
Mungo is our Watty here?
Darted through him like a knife!
Up the door flew like a fury!
In came Watty’s ſcawlin wife.
Till ſhe rais'd a clam'rous din,
Which made Watty ſhak an' trimble,
For to hear her thus begin:
O ye ſnuffy, drunken ſow!
Bringan wife an' weans to ruin,
Drinkin' here wi' ſic a crew!
Sic a life nae fleſh endures—
Toilan like a ſlave, to flocken
You, you dyvour, and your whores!
Drink's your night and day's deſire;
Riſe this precious hour! or faith I'll
Fling your whiſky i' the fire!"
Pay't his groat wi' little din;
Left the houſe, while Maggy fallow't,
Flyting a' the road behin'.
Maggy curſt them ane and a';
Claupit wi' her hauns, and ſtampin',
Loſt her bauchles i' the ſna'.
Wi' a face as white's a clout,
Raging like a very devil,
Kicken ſtools and chairs about!
Hang you, Sir! I'll be your death!
Little hauds my hands, confound you!
But I cleave you to the teeth."
Ey'd her whiles, but durſtna' ſpeak,
Sat, like patient Reſignation,
Trim'ling by the ingle cheek.
Maggy's tongue gaed like a bell;
Quietly to his bed he ſlippet,
Sighan af'en to himſel':
Ilk ane has his ills to dree;
But, thro' a' the hale creation
Is a mortal vext like me?"
Sleep or reſt he cou'dna tak;
Maggy aft, wi' horror hauntet,
Mum'lan, ſtartes at his back.
Soon as e'er the morning peepet,
Up raiſe Watty, waefu' chiel,
Kiſt his weans while they ſleepit,
Waukent Meg, and ſought farewel,
"Farewel, Meg!— And O may Heav'n
Keep you ay within his care;
Watty's heart ye've lang been grievin',
Now he'll never faſh you mair!
Happy cou'd I been beſide you,
Happy baith at morn and e'en;
A' the ills did e'er betide you,
Watty 'ay turn’d out the frien'.
Bet ye ever like to ſee me
Vest and ſighan, late and air:
Farewel, Meg ! I’ve ſworn to lea' thee,
So thou’ll never ſee mair?"
Meg a’ ſabban ſae to loſe him.
Sic a change had never wiſt,
Held his haun cloſe to her boſom,
While her heart was like to burſt.
"O my Watty! will ye lea' me
Frien'less, helpleſs to deſpair?
O! for this se time forgi'e me!
Never will I vex you mair.”
Ay! ye've aft ſeid that and broken
A' your vows ten times a-week
No, no, Meg!- ⟨See⟩ there's a token
Glittering on my bonnet-cheek.
Liſtet, teſlet, ſworn an' a';
Forc'd by your confounded girning!
Farewel Meg! for I'm awa'."
Guſht afreſh, and louder grew,
While the weans, wi' mournfu' yammer,
Round their ſabban mother flew!
Stay, O Watty! ſtay at hame!
Here upon my knee, I'll gi'e you
Ony vow ye like to name!
Will ye gang and break our heart?
No a houſe to put our head in!
No a frien' to tak our part!"
Watty’s heart begoud to ſhake!
On a kiſt he laid his wallet,
Dighted baith his een and ſpake:
⟨Lea'⟩ the ſogers, and ſtay ſtill,
Wad you ſwear to drap your flyting?"
"Yes, O Watty! yes I will!"
Aye to keep your temper ſtrive;
Gin ye break this dreadful promiſe,
Never mair expect to thrive.
"Swear by every thing that's gude,
"Ne'er again your ſpouſe to ſcald him,
"While life warms your heart and blood:
"Ne’er put drunken to my name—
"Never out at e’ening ſteek me—
"Never gloom when I come hame—
"Kick my ſhins, or rug my hair—
"Laſtly, I’m to keep the ſiller—
"This, upon your ſoul, ye ſwear!"
"Farewell! faith I’ll try the ſeas!
"O ſtan' ſtill!' quo' Meg, and grat ay;
Ony, ony way you pleaſe!"
Swore to a'thing owr again:
Watty lap, and danc’t, and kiſt her!
Wow but he was wond’rous fain!
Aff gaed bonnet, claes and ſhoon!
Syne below the blankets, glorious,
They enjoy’d the honey-moon!
FINIS

Falkirk - T. Johnston, Printer.

This work was published before January 1, 1928, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.