4
Farer to gang tho' it were fair,
See gin ye hae a bed to spare,
Whate'er ye charge, we sanna grudge,
But satisfy ye, ere we budge
To gang awa--and fan 'tis day,
We'll pack our all, and tak the way.
The Landlord said, O' beds I've nane,
Our ain fowks they will scarce contain ;
But gin ye gang but twa miles forret,
Aside the kirk dwalls Robbie Dorret,
Wha keeps a change house,sells guid drink,
His house you may mak out I think.
Quoth Thrummy, That's owre far awa,
The roads are sae blawn up wi' snaw,
To mak it is nae in our power;
For, lock ye, there's a gathering shower
Is coming on--you'll let us bide,
Tho' we should sit' by the fire side.
The Landlord said to him, Na, na,
I canna let you bide ava,
Chap off, for 'tis nae worth your while
To bide, when ye hae scrimp twa mile
To gang--sae quickly aff ye'll steer,
For faith, I doubt ye'll nae be here.
Twa mile! quo' Thrummy, de'il speed me,
If frae your house this night I jee;
Are we to starve in Christian land?
As lang's my stick bides in my hand,
An silver plenty in my pouch,
To nane about your house I'll crouch;
Landlord, ye needna be sae rude,
For faith we'll make our quarters good.
