6
White the wa’s, wi’ roof new theekit,
Window-boards just painted red!
Lowne ’mang trees and braes it reekit,
Haflins seen and haflins hid.
Up the gravel-end, thick spreadin’,
Crept the clasping ivy green;
Back owre firs the high craigs cleadin',
Raised a’ round a cozie screen.
Down below, a flowery meadow
Joined the burnie’s rambling line,
Here it was Meg Howe, the widow.
This same day set up her sign.
Brattling down the brae, and near its
Bottom, Will first marvelling sees—
“Porter Ale, and British Spirits,”
Painted bright between twa trees.
“Here, then, Tam, here’s walth for drinking:
(Wha can this new comer be? ”)
“Hoot,” quo’ Tam, “there’s drouth in thinking,
Let’s in, Will, and syne we’ll see.”
Nae mair time they took to speak or
Think of ought but reaming jugs,
Till three times in humming liquor
Ilk lad deeply laid his lugs.
Slokened now, refreshed and talking,
In cam Meg (weel skilled to please)—
“Sirs, ye’re surely tired wi’ walking—
Ye maun taste my bread and cheese."
“Thanks," quo’ Will, “I cannot tarry,
Pit mirk night is setting in;
Jean, poor thing! is her lane, and eerie—
I maun to the road and rin."
