19
Sae soon as they the kail had supp’d,
To glancin’ knives an’ forks they gripp’d
Wi’ them to weel fill’d plates fell keenly;
Ate—took a drink—an’ crackit frien’ly.
But Margret only was a hearer,
She was sae blate; nought seem’d to cheer her,
Sae mony things appearing new,
Cam’ ilka minute iu her view,
And fill’d her mind sae fa’ o’ dread,
Cracking was clean out o’ her head.
In course, the Pastor, her example,
That brought her there to feed her ample,
She notic’d twa or thi’ee times take
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 threw her face!
Threw down her knife an’ fork displeas’d,
Syne wi’ haith hands her nose she seiz’d,
While it did bite an’ him’ her een;
The like o’t sure was never seen;
For startin’ up as fast as able;
The haill grear tumbl’d aff the table!
The crash o’ crock’ry ware resounded,
Plates trantlin’—ilka ane confounded.
Straight to the door she frantic flew,
An’ after her Mess John she drew;
