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Jan. A wat well did they, for the maist o' them is dead and rotten, and the rest o'
them gade awa to Italy, where the auld Pape their father, the de'il, the witches, brownies and faries dwal; and then we got anither sort of gospel fouks, it they ca'd curits, fine sort of dainty honest fouks they war, but gay and greedy, they did not like sculchuddery-Wark, but said na meikle against it, for a hantle o' bits a callens wad a gotten twa or three bastards before they wad a gotten breeks; they beit to hae their tithes of everthing that grew, mony a time my father wist they wad tak the tithes o' his hemp too, an it were to hang themsels, they were ay warst whare a poor man or wife died, altho' they left weans fatherless and mitherless, a deed they wad a sent their bellman, and wi' his lang prelatic fingers he wad a harl'd the upper pair o' blankets aff a' the poor things' bed, for some rent that they gard fouks pay for dying, a sae did they een, and yet they keepit a hantle o' braw haly days, and days o' meikle meat, Fastern's-een and Yule-days, when we got our wames fou of fat-brose, and a suppet Yule sowens till our sarks had been like to rive, and after that eaten rosted cheese and white puddings well spiced, O braw times for the guts, well I wat every body might live then that had ony thing to live on.
Mag. But dear Janet ye're bra' an lang o' the memory, do ye mind o' the waefu
