7
For a stick at the Gingerbread play’d whistle,
And knockit him down like a cow:
Says Tam, “ wha did that, de’il confound him?
Fair play, let me win at the lour;”
And he whirled his stick roend and round him,
i and swore, L--d, he swore like a very dragoon.’
Now Tam would been very weel paiket, But Gibbie and Will slippit in; They pu’d him awa’ by the jacket, Out owre frae the hurrie and din; Meg stood a’ shaking and frighted, Saying, the sorra lak the shows,” Syne she took out her napkin, and dighted The blood frae his mouth and his nose.
Then, for a house they gaed glowring, Whar they might get wetting their meu'; Says Meg, “ here’s a house keeps a pooring, Wi’ the sign o’ the muckle black cow.” “ A cow,” quo’ Jennie, “ ye gawkie, Preserve’s but ye’ve little skill, Ye haverel, did ye e’er see a hawkie Like, that—look again, and ye’ll see it's a Brill."
But just as they darken’d the entry, Says Willie, “ we’re now far eneuch; I see it’s a house for the gentry, Lets gang to the sign of the pleugh:” “ Na faith,” says Gibbie, “ wese better Gae dauner to auld Luckie Gun’s, For there I’m to meet wi’ my Father, And auld Uncle Jock o’ the Whims.”
