POKMS 175 



"Devil, nor your legs were broken ! 



Sic a life nae flesh endures ; 

 Toiling like a slave to sloken 



You, you dyvor,^" and your 'hores! 



"Rise, ye drunken beast o' Bethel! 



Drink's your night and day's desire; 

 Rise, this precious hour! or faith, I'll 



Fling your whiskey i' the fire!" 



Watty heard her tongue unhallow'd, 



Pay'd his groat wi' little din ; 

 Left the house, while Maggy fallow'd, 



Flytin'i® a' the road behin'. 



Fowk frae every door came lamping ;^^ 



Maggy curst them ane and a' ; 

 Clappet wi' her hands, and stamping. 



Lost her bauchles^^ i' the sna'. 



Hame, at length she turn'd the gavel, 



Wi' a face as white's a clout ;^® 

 Raging like a very devil. 



Kicking stools and chairs about. 



"Ye'll sit wi' your limmers round you ! 



Hang you, sir ? I'll be your death ! 

 Little hauds^*' my hands, confound you, 



But I cleave you to the teeth!" 



Watty, wha' midst this oration, 



Ey'd her whiles, but durstna speak. 

 Sat like patient Resignation, 



Trem'ling by the ingle cheek.^^ 



"Drunkard. "Scolding. "Striding. ^^ slippers. 



" Cloth. » Holds. 21 Fireside. 



