The nuts upon a clean hearthstane Were plac’d by ane anither, An’ some gat lads, an’ some gat nane, Just as they bleez’d the gither. Some sullen cooffs refuse to burn; Bad luck can ne’er be mended; But or they a’ had got a turn, The pokefu’ nits was ended Owre soon that night. A candle on a stick was hung, An’ ti’d up to the kipple: Ilk lad an’ lass, baith auld an’ young, Did try to catch the apple; Which aft, in spite o’ a’ their care, Their furious jaws escaped; They touch’d it ay, but did nae mair, Though greedily they gaped, Fu’ wide that night. The dishes then, by joint advice, Were plac’d upon the floor; Some stammer’d on the toom ane thrice, In that unlucky hour. Poor Mall maun to the garret go, Nae rays o’ comfort meeting; Because sae aft she’s answer’d no, She’ll spend her days in greeting, An’ ilka night. Poor James sat trembling for his fate; He lang had dree’d the worst o’t; Though they had tugg’d and rugg’d till yet, To touch the dish he durst not. The empty bowl, before his eyes, Replete with ills appeared; No man nor maid could make him rise, The consequence he feared Sae much that night. Wi’ heartsome glee the minutes past, Each act to mirth conspired: The cushion dance perform’d at last, Was most of all admired. From Janet’s bed a bolster came, Nor lad nor lass was missing; But ilka ane wha caught the same, Was pleas’d wi’ routh o’ kissing, Fu’ sweet that night. Soon as they heard the forward clock Proclaim ’twas nine, they started, An’ ilka lass took up her rock; Reluctantly they parted, In hopes to meet some other time, Exempt from false aspersion; Nor will they count it any crime, To hae sic like diversion Some future night. ON SEEING _Mr. ---- BAKING CAKES_. As Rab, who ever frugal was, Some oat-meal cakes was baking, In came a crazy scribbling lass, Which set his heart a-quaking. “I fear,” says he, “she’ll verses write, An’ to her neebors show it: But troth I need na care a doit, Though a’ the country knew it. My cakes are good, none can object; The maids will ca’ me thrifty; To save a sixpence on the peck Is just an honest shifty. They’re fair an’ thin, an’ crump, ’tis true; You’ll own sae when you see them; But, what is better than the view, Put out your han’ an’ pree them.” He spoke, an’ han’d the cakes about, Whilk ev’ry eater prized; Until the basket was run out, They did as he advised. An’ ilka ane that got a share, Said that they were fu’ dainty; While Rab cri’d eat, an’ dinna spare; For I hae cakes in plenty. And i’ the corner stan’s a cheese, A glass an’ bottle by me; Baith ale and porter, when I please, To treat the lasses slily. Some ca’ me wild an’ roving youth; But sure they are mistaken: The maid wha gets me, of a truth, Her bread will ay be baken. A POEM ON _CONTENTMENT_.