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Grow verra thick upon the wind,
Whilk to their wae they soon did find;
A mighty show’r o’ snaw and drift,
As ever dang down frae the lift!
Right wild and boist’rous Boreas roar’d,
Preserves! quoth John, we’ll baith be smor’d.
Our trystic end we’ll ne’er make out;
Chear up, says Thrummy, never dout.
But I’m some fly’d we‘ve tint our way,
Howe’er at the neist hoose we‘ll stay,
Until we see gif it grow fair,
Gin no, a‘ night we‘ll tarry there.
Weel, weel, says Johnny, we shall try,
Syne they a mansion house did spy,
Upo’ the road a piece afore,
Sae up they gade unto the door,
Where Thrummy chappit wi’ his stick,
Syne to the door came verra quick,
A meikle dog, wha baiked fair,
But Thrummy for him didna care;
He handied weel his aiken staff,
An‘ spite o‘s teeth he kept him aff
Until the Landlord came to see,
And ken fat might the matter be;
Then verra soon the dog did cease
The Landlord then did spear the case
Quoth Thrummy, Sir, we ha’e gane rill;
we thought we’d ne’er a house get till,
We near were smor’d amo‘ the drift,
And sae gudeman; ye’ll mak’ a shift
To gi’e us quarters a‘ this night;
For now we dinna ha’e the light,
Farer to gang, tho’ it were fair,
See gin ye hae a bed to spare,
Whilk to their wae they soon did find;
A mighty show’r o’ snaw and drift,
As ever dang down frae the lift!
Right wild and boist’rous Boreas roar’d,
Preserves! quoth John, we’ll baith be smor’d.
Our trystic end we’ll ne’er make out;
Chear up, says Thrummy, never dout.
But I’m some fly’d we‘ve tint our way,
Howe’er at the neist hoose we‘ll stay,
Until we see gif it grow fair,
Gin no, a‘ night we‘ll tarry there.
Weel, weel, says Johnny, we shall try,
Syne they a mansion house did spy,
Upo’ the road a piece afore,
Sae up they gade unto the door,
Where Thrummy chappit wi’ his stick,
Syne to the door came verra quick,
A meikle dog, wha baiked fair,
But Thrummy for him didna care;
He handied weel his aiken staff,
An‘ spite o‘s teeth he kept him aff
Until the Landlord came to see,
And ken fat might the matter be;
Then verra soon the dog did cease
The Landlord then did spear the case
Quoth Thrummy, Sir, we ha’e gane rill;
we thought we’d ne’er a house get till,
We near were smor’d amo‘ the drift,
And sae gudeman; ye’ll mak’ a shift
To gi’e us quarters a‘ this night;
For now we dinna ha’e the light,
Farer to gang, tho’ it were fair,
See gin ye hae a bed to spare,
