( 4 ) Then our goodman when time drew near, got up for to gae my the ſpining, His ſpindle fell, all ran arear, alas! he got en ill beginning. I watua whether yarn or linning, was on the rock. or lint or tow, But round about the fire rinning, I wat his rock's head took a low. And into the lumb did flow, the foot took fire, it flied him then, Some lumps did fa' and burn'd his pow, I wat he was a pretty man. Yet he got water in a pan, where with he flock'ned out the fire; To ſweep the houſe he then began, to hand a right was his deſire. He fetch'd the kirn ben frae the byre, whereat be wrought until he ſwat: But ſhould he plunge until he tyre, he little or no butter gat. Then on the fire be hang the pat, and with ſwa ſtoups ran to the ſport, Or ever he came back I wat, the new pat bottom was burnt out. Next all the bairns rail'd in a rout, he thought to catch them a' up clean, The firſt he gat his arms about, was a bedirten to the cen. Alas ! quoth he, What did. I mean, at firſt to tak this wark in hand,
