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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 ance fairly aff the fodder, I'll be cast into a hole o' house by mysel, where I'll just ly and break my heart and weary myself o death; but an I could get a bit honest weaver, a cobler, or some auld tailor by the tail, I would tackle to him yet let the country clash as they please about it.
Sawny. A well, a well mither, tak your ain flight, there's nae fool like an auld fool; for the morn I'll be aff or on wi' the hissy I hae in hand.
So on the morrow Sawny got a' his claise clean'd, his hair kamed and greased wi' butter, and his face as clean as if the cat had licket it, and away he goes singing:
I will buy a pound o' woo',
I will wash't and mak a plaidy,
I'm gaun ower the muir to woo,
Carlin, is your daughter ready.
Now poor Sawny, although he sang, was as pale as a ghost from the grave; his face was whitly white, like a weel-bleached dishclout, and he look'd as if he had been eaten and spued again; but at length he came to the bride's door, and in he goes wi a brattle crying How's a' here the day? and what s
