24
Out o'a dish slaik after slaik
O' MUSTARD; which she judg'd to be
Gravie, or some delicious brie;
For Margret ne'er did peruse it,
Kenn'd na' its name, nor how to use it;
But now determin'd to partake o't,
She wi' a tea spoon took a slaik o't,
Heedless she supped up the whole,
Then instantly she looked droll,
Dung doited in a moment's space,
She hung her head and throw her faco!
Throw down her knife an' fork displeas'd,
Syne wi' baith hands her nose she seiz'd,
While it did bite an' blin' her een;
Tho like o't sure was never seen;
For startin' up as fast as able;
The haill gear tumbl'd aff the table!
Tho crash o' crock'ry ware resounded,
Plates truntlin'--ilka ane confounded.
Straight to tho door she frantic flew,
An' after her Mess John sho drew;
Which drave tho company a' throuther,
As they were kippled baith thegither.
But in a crack, the prins brak looso,
An' Margret, ravin' left the house,
Hameward, in haste, sho hobbl'd sweating,
Tell'd Tamos the disaster greeting,
Wrung baith her han's an' solemn sware,
To dine wi' gentle folks nae mair.
THE END.
