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"Up my claes an' cash I buckel't, "Bess! for ever fare ye weel.
"Then her din grew less and less aye, "Hath I gart her change her tune;"Now, a better wife than Bessy "Never stept in leather shoon.
"Try this Watty—Whan ye see her "Ragin' like a roarin' flood,"Swear, that moment, that ye'll lea' her; "That's the way to keep her gude."
Laughin', sangs, an lasses' skirls, Echo'd now out thro' the roof;Done! quo' Pate, and syne his erls Nail't the Dryster's wauket loof.
I' the thrang o' stories tellin', Shakin' hauns, an' ither chear,Swith! a chap comes on the hallan, "Mungo! is our Watty here?"
Maggy's weel-kent tongue and hurry Dartet thro' him like a knife,Up the door flew—like a fury, In cam' Watty's scawlin' wife.
Nasty, gude-for naething bein', O ye snuffy, drucken sow!"Bringin' wife and weans to ruin, "Drinkin' here wi' sic a crew!
"Devil nor your legs were broken! "Sic a life nae flesh endures—"Toilin' like a slave, to slocken "You, ye dyvor, and your 'hores!
