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Quoth Thrummy, Sir. I naething saw That did me ony ill ava. Weel, quoth the Laird, ye now may gang, Ye ken the day's na verra lang : In the mean time its calm and clear, Ye lose your time in biding here. Quoth Thrummy, Sir, mind what I tell. I've mair right here than you yoursel. Sae till I like I hear shall bide. The Laird at this began to chide : Says he, My friend your turning rude. Quoth Thrummy, I'll my claim make good For here I just befor you a’, The Rights o! this Estate can shaw And that is mair then ye can do. What! quo' the Laird, can that be true? 'Tis true, quoth Thrummy, look and see D'ye think that I would tell a lie. The Parchments frae his, pouch then drew, And down upon the table threw. The Laird at this up to him ran, And cried, Whar did you get them, man ? Syne Thrummy tauld him a' the tale, As I've tald you, baith clear and hale: The Laird at this was fidgin fain, That he had gat his Rights again : Arid fifty guineas down did tell. Besides a present frae himsel.
