Near Selkrit, where Leslie ance met wi’ Montrose, And ga’e the King’s army its last bloody nose, There lives an auld wabster, within an auld shiel, As lang, and as ugly, and black as the de’il. He works e’en and morn for his wife and his weans, Till the very flesh seems to be wrought frae his banes; Yet canty the wabster, and blyth as a lark, Whene’er he gets what he ca’s customer-wark! II. [Sidenote: _Customer-wark_—that is, the employment of weaving the homespun linens and woollens of the industrious country wives and maidens, which yields a much better scale of profits than the staple commodities of Glasgow. The superiority of customer-wark over that sent out to the country villages by Glasgow manufacturers,—which is just the preference of straitened poverty over utter starvation,—forms the theme of this poem.] This customer-wark’s the delight o’ his soul, Whether blanket, or sheetin, or sarkin, or towel. Nae trashtrie o’ cottons frae Glasgow he cares for,— Their tippence the ell is a very gude wherefore;— But God bless the wives, wi’ their wheels and their thrift, That help the puir wabster to fend and mak’ shift; Himsel’, and his wife, and his weans might been stark, An it hadna been them and their customer-wark. III. [Sidenote: Description of the weaver’s house, which, having two apartments, belongs to the aristocracy of country cottages.] [Sidenote: The weaver’s neglect of cleanliness and order, not to be attributed to laziness, but to the want of leisure, all his time being engrossed by the important business—_customer-wark!_] The wabster’s auld house—it’s an unco like den, (Though, atweel, like its neebors, it has a ben-en’!) It’s roof’s just a hotter o’ divots and thack, Wi’ a chimley dressed up maist as big’s a wheat-stack. There’s a peat-ruck behind, and a midden before, And a jaw-hole would tak a mile race to jump o’er! Ye may think him negleckfu’ and lazy,—but, hark, He’s better employed on his customer-wark! IV. [Sidenote: Furniture of the cottage.] [Sidenote: The poor weaver has to work sixteen hours a day, in order to provide food for his children.] Whate’er ye may think him,—the wabster’s auld hut Has twa looms i’ the ben, and twa beds i’ the butt, A table, twa creepies, three chyres, and a kist, And a settle to rest on, whene’er that ye list; The ben has a winnock, the butt has a bole, Where the bairns’ parritch-luggies are set out to cool, In providin’ o’ whilk he has mony a day’s darque, O’ saxteen lang hours at the _customer-wark_! V. [Sidenote: The weaver’s wife a noisy scold, and appropriately named _Bell_.] [Sidenote: The children _wind_ the pirns.] [Sidenote: The wife’s tongue rivals the weaver’s shuttle both in sound and swiftness.] [Sidenote: Worse than that, she occasionally _lays on_!]