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the lice, ay when they meet they marry, and make mae of them: and I think the ministers might christen their bits of weans for naething, the water's no sae scant; they are weel paid for their preaching, they may very weel baith marry and christen a' the poor fouks into the bargain, by the way of a maggs.
Mither. Ay, ay, my man Sawny, marriage is a sweet thing for young fouk, and the bed undefiled.
Sawny. What the vengeance, mither, do ye think a body's to file the bed every night because they did it ance.
Mither. Na, na that's no what I mean; it is the happiness that fouk hae that's married, beside the lonesome life that I hae, lying tumbling and gaunting in a bed my lane: O sirs, but a man in bed be a useful body, an it were but to claw anes back, as for a body's foreside they can claw it themselves.
Sawny. Ah mither, mither, ye hae fun a string again; I think ye might a wanted all your days, when ye hae wanted sae lang: ye hae plenty of baith milk and meal, snuff and tobacco; but ye smell at the crack of a whip, I kend my mither wad ride yet, for I've seen her fit waggan this lang time.
Mither, A dear Sawny man, an thou were
