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The goodman ſaid, Ye're welcome jo',
for of my trade I think great (illegible text).
Your occupation take my dame,
quoth ſhe, goodman, well may ye bruik,
What is the cauſe your hand is lame?
quoth he the ſow, miſchief her choak.
Did it in 'er teeth and ſhoak,
and eke the meikle branded cow,
Into my breech her horn did york,
and's made my buttocks fair trow:
And now this charge l'll quit to you,
all controverſies let be ended;
Both corn and kiln, is quite burnt throw,
what miſs is done cannot be mended.
Wherefore my dear, be not offended,
but tak your charge and I'll tak mine;
I will that I had quire miskend it,
for now I dree baith ſhame and pain.
Quoth the goodman, the fault was chine;
ye took my trade againſt my will;
Now after this do not repine,
but occupy your own with ſkill:
Since of my place you have your fill:
then do not boaſt I live at eaſe,
When forth ye walk the pleugh until.
for now you know what drinkers drice,
Gae fetch me butter, milk, and cheer
and let eat and drink and gree,
Indeed goodwife, If it you pleaſe,
the no'er a crumb the ſow left me.
