17
Min. O ! my dear Margret, is this you:
I’m glad to see you; how d’ye do?
How’s Tamos, my auld worthy frien’?
How’s Jock your son, an’ daughter Jean?
Mar. They’re gaily, Sir, we’re a’ meat heal—
Tho’ Tamie’s e’en but craz’d an’ frail;
But here’s some butter, I present ye.
Which wi’ thir hens I compliment ye.
Min. Howt, Margret! this speaks t’ expense
But thanks ye’se get for recompence:
Wi’ gratefu’ heart, I freely tell
Ye’re ever kind an’ like yoursel.
Mar. Whisht, Sir ! wi’ thanks—nae thanks ava;
Ye’re worthy mair—the gift’s but sma’;
But this acknowledgment from us,
Means ye’re beloved by me and Tamos.
Min. Sic favours, sure, I ne’er expected;
Yet blythe am I, I’m sae respected;
Fling aff your cloak and follow me;
Come ben, an’ rest, an’ crack awee:
’Tis no sae aft ye come to see us;
Ye’ll wait, and tak’ your dinner wi us—
It’s ready, waiting on my comin’;
Com ben, then, Margret, honest woman.
Mar. Na, na. Sir ! dinna speak o’ that,
I’ll tak’ nae dinner weel I wat;
Wi’ gentle manner's (ye will grant it)
I’ve ever yet been unacquaintit.
Min. The manners that ye use at hame—
Use here, an’ banish fear an’ shame.
The company’s but few, they’re wholly
My wife, a preacher, Jess, and Polly:
Ye’se tak’ your dinner or ye gang,
Just do like me, we’ll no gae wrang
