His mither, auld Mary, plagued him ay in the morning; she got up when the hens keckled, riping the ribs, blew her snotterbox, primed her nose, kindled her tobacco-pipe, and at every puff breathed out frettings against her hard fortune and lanely single life. O but a widow be a poor name; but I live in a wilderness in this lang-lonen, mony a man gaes by my door, but few folks looks in to poor Mary. Hoch hey, will I never win out of this wearied life. Wa Sawny, man, wilt thou not rise the day; the sun’s up, and a’ the nibours round about; Willie and Charlie is on the hill an hour syne, and half gate hame again. Wilt thou rise an gie the beasts a bite, thou minds na them, I wat man. Grump grump, quo Sawny, they got their supper an hour after I got mine. Shut to dead come on them every ane an they get a bit frae me till they work for’t. Sawny. But mither I’ve been dreaming that I was married, an’ in the bed aboon the bride: I wonder gin it be true? Od, I ne’er got sic fun: what will’t be, think ye? how auld am I mither? do you think I could man a hissy yet? fegs I have a mind to try; but the saucy hissies will na hae me, I ken weel enough. Mither. Say you lad, ay mony a hungry heart wad be blythe o’ you, but there was never a sca’d Jockey but there was a scabbed Jenny till him yet: dinna be scar’d lad. Sawny. A hech, mither, I’se no be lordly an’ I sud tak a beggar wife aff the hi’ gate; but I’ll tell ye something that I’m ay thinking on, but ye maun na tell the neighbours, for the chiels wad aye jaw me wi’t. Mither. Wad I tell o’ thee lad? I wad tell o’ mysel as soon. Sawny. Do ye mind mither, that day I gade to the Pans I came in by auld Mattie’s your countrywoman, the Fife wife, it cam’ out o’ the town ye cam frae, the wife that says Be-go laddies, I gade there, an she was unco kind, and made me fat brose out of the lee side o’ her kail-pot: there was baith beef and paunches in’t; od they smell’d like ony haggis, and shined a’ like a gould fac’d waiscoat: fegs I suppit till I was like to rive o’ hem and had a rift o’ them the morn a’ day; when I came out I had a kite like a cow wi’ calf; she spiered for you, mither, and I said ye was gaily; and she looked to me, and leuch, and gripped my shakle-bane, and said I would be a sturdy fallow yet--I looked to her, and thought I liked her, and thinks on’t aye since syne: she leugh, and bade me seek out a coal driver for her, for she didna like to carry a fish creel. Mither. Forsooth, Sawny, I’ll gie my twa lugs for a lav’rock’s egg if she binna in love wi’ thee, and that will be a bargain. Sawny. An upon my word mither, she’s a sturdy gimmer, well worth the smoaking after; she has a dimple on every cheek, an haunches like a sodjer’s lady’s hoop, they hobble when she shakes, and her paps play nidlety nod when she gangs; I ken by her keckling she has a conceit of me.