“But nay,” sez I, “if wantin’ t’ heid, she raises sec a rout, I’d like to see what way she taks to fetch sec haybays oot; They say yan stops a woman’s noise when yan taks off her heid, But this, by gock! wad mak yan sweer they’re noisy whick or deid.” It’s Burns ’at sez Jwohn Barleycworn can mak yan bold as brass; An’ Isbel’ drink meàd me quite keen this greànin’ thing to feàce. We shootit Edward Beeby up an’ meàd ’im git a leeght— He grummel’t sair to be disturb’t at sec a time o’ neeght, But brong yan oot;—an’, led bee t’ lugs, we follow’t efter t’ soond, While clwose t’ swine-hull dooar we com, an’ stopt, an’ gedder’t roond. “By gockers, lads!” Jwohn Suntan said, “It’s no’but Edward’ swine!” “Nay, nay,” sez Edward, “mine’s i’ soat—it’s nèa pig o’ mine!” “Well, I’ll gā in, an’ see,” sez I. O’ t’ rest steud leukin on As in I creept wid t’ leeght, an’ fund greit lang Joe Nicholson Hoaf cover’t up wid mucky strea,—soond asleep,—and _snworin’_, As if o’ t’ bulls o’ Dean war theear, an’ ivery bull was rwoarin’. We trail’t him oot, an’ prop’t him up ageàn t’ oald swine-hull wo’— An’ dazet wid coald he glower’t aboot, an’ dadder’t like to fo’— We help’t ’im in, an’ hap’t ’im weel, on t’ squab aback o’ t’ dooar, He said his wife had barr’t ’im oot, as oft she’d deun afooar. Sez Jwohn o’ t’ Rayes, “If iv’ry neeght he maks sa gurt a din, It’s rayder queer a wife like his sud iver let ’im in; It’s varra weel we hārd ’im though, he med ha’ dee’t o’ coald! Come, let’s git yam!”—an’ laughin’ loud, we lonter’t oot o’ t’ foald. Jwohn Suntan’s rwoad left oor’s gay seun, an’ sooa dud Jwohn Bell’s, An’ Jwohn o’ Craypless Ho’ an’ me went poapin’ on oorsells, An’ no’but slow, for t’ snow was thick, an’ meàd it bad to woke, Sooa mid-leg deep we striddel’t on, but offen steud to toke. Jwohn hed a faymish crack in ’im,—his fadder hed afooar ’im,— At teàls an’ sangs, an’ sec like fun not many cud cum ower ’im; An’ theàr an’ than, dud Jwohn set on, at t’ furst gud rist we teuk, To tell me hoo ther com to be a ghost i’ Branthet Neùk. Sez Jwohn, sez he, “I’ Branthet Neùk, as varra weel thoo knows, ’Tween t’ beck an’ Edward Beeby’ hoose ther stands some brocken wo’s; Lang sen, when they hed roofs on them, yance, leàtish on i’ t’ year, Some tinkler fwoke gat leave fray t’ lword, an’ com to winter theear. “Two oald fwoke, wid a scrowe o’ barns, an’ yā son, jūst a man,— A handy chap to shap’ a speun, or cloot a pot or pan,— An’ this chap hed a bonnie wife, ’at dūdn’t leuk like t’ rest, But fair, clean-skinn’t, an’ leàdy-like, an’ ol’as nicely drest.