Yet would hae gi’en my ha’f year’s fee, Had Maggy then been jesting me, Had tartan purry, meal an’ bree, Or buttr’y brose, Been kilting up her petticoats Aboon her hose. But time that tries such praticks past, Brought me out o’er the coals fu’ fast; Poor Maggy took a sudden blast, And o’er did tumble, For something in her wame at last Began to rumble. Our folk ca’d it the windy gravel, That grips the guts beneath the navel, But laith was she for to unravel Their gross mistake, Weel kend she, that she was in travail, Wi’ little Jack. But, to put matters out of doubt, Young John within would fain been out, An’ but an’ ben made sic a rout Wi’ hands and feet, That she began twa-fauld about The house to creep. Then dool an’ sorrow interveen’d; For Jack nae langer could be screen’d, My lass upon her breast she lean’d, An’ gae a skirl. The canny wives came there conveen’d, An’ in a whirl. They wrought together in a crowd; By this time I was under cloud; Yet bye and bye I understood, They made one more, For Jack he tun’d his pipe, and loud Wi’ cries did roar. Wi’ that they blam’d the Session-Clark; Where is the lown hid in the dark? For he’s the father o’ this wark: Swear to his mither, He’s just as like him as ae lark Is like anither. About me then there was a din, They sought me out through thick an’ thin, Wi’ deil hae her, an deil hae him, He’s o’er the dyke; Our Dominie has now dung in His arse a pike. Ye may weel judge I was right sweer, This uncouth meeting to draw near, Yet forc’d I was then to appear, Altho’ perplex’d; But listen how, and ye shall hear, The hags me vex’d. The carlings Maggy had sae cleuked, Before young Jack was rightly hooked, They made her twice as little booked, But to gae on, O then! how like a fool I looked, When I saw John. The Cummer then came to me bent, And gravely, did my son present; She bade me kiss him, be content, Then wish’d me joy; An’ tauld it was--what luck had sent, A waly boy.