14
Mither. Wa' Sawny, man, what's come o'er thee now? thou hast gotten skaith a some auld wife has witcht thee, or the deil has dung thee o'er in some dirty midden; where hast thou been, or what hast thou seen; they een reel like a wild cat's, and the sweat is hailing o'er thy nose; thou a witcht, thou's witch't, O man, what will I do.
Bock, bock gaed Sawney; but it could na win up for bubbles an' herrin banes, Oh, quo' he, keep me in my bed for my days will soon be done; a curse on your courting work, for it has killed me, and wives are but wicked things, I ken by the same.
Mither, O dole, dole, my bairn has gotten poison, for the smell o' it is like to poison me.
Sawny Gin herrin' and het ale be poison, there'll no be mony left alive. Bock, bock. Oh, quo, Sawney the bed's filed!
Mither O my bairn, thou was ay a cleanly bairn till now; thou's surely lost thy seuses when thou files where thou lies, like the brute beasts: thou ne'er did the like o' this before since thou left rocking o' the cradle.
