Jock. A black end on a me, Sir, if ever I lay an unlawfu’ leg upon a hissy again, an’ they sud lie down to me, as lang as our Maggy lasts; and for dying, there’s nae fear of that, or I’ll no get fair play, if ye an’ a’ the aulder folk in the parish be not dead before me. So I hae done wi’ ye now, fareweel Sir. [Illustration: FINIS.] THE COALMAN’S COURTSHIP TO THE CREEL-WIFE’S DAUGHTER. IN THREE PARTS. I.--Containing a very curious dialogue between the Carter and his Mother, who instructs him in the true art of Courtship. II.--Sawny’s Visit to his sweetheart, and what passed betwixt them. With the curious house where Sawny got drunk--and an account of the terrible misfortunes he met with in consequence. III.--Description of his second Visit to his intended bride--what passed between them; and how Sawny was in danger of losing his sweetheart. How her mother got all parties pleased again: with an account of the Wedding of the happy Couple--the whole abounding with the most laughable occurrences. [Illustration] GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. THE COALMAN’S COURTSHIP TO THE CREEL-WIFE’S DAUGHTER. All that are curious of Courtship, give attention to the history of Mary and her son Sawney, a young Coalman, who lived in the country, a few miles from Edinburgh. Mary, his mither, was a gay hearty wife; had mair wantonness than wealth; was twelve years a married wife, nine years a widow, and was very chaste in her behaviour wi’ her ain tale, for want o’ chargin’, for all the time of her widowhood there was never a man got a kiss of her lips, nor laid a foul hand on her hind quarters. Sawny, her son, was a stout young raw loon, full fac’d, wi flabby cheeks, duddy breeks and a ragget doublet; gade always wi’ his bosom bare sometimes ae garter, a lingle or strae rape was gude enough for Sawny. His very belly was a’ sunburnt like a piper’s bag, or the head of an auld drum, and yet his beard began to sprout out like herring banes. He took thick brose to his breakfast, and baps and ale through the day, and when the coals selled dear, and the win’ was cauld, bought an oven-farl, and twa Dunbar Wadders, or a Glasgow Magistrate, which fish-wifes ca’s a wastlin herrin’.