Four Funny Tales (1802, Ayr)/Watty and Meg
For other versions of this work, see Watty and Meg.
WATTY AND MEG.
A TALE.
Keen the frosty winds war blawin', deep the sna' had wreath'd the ploughs,Watty, weary't a' day sawin daunert down to Mungo Blue's.
Dyster Jock was sitting cracky, wi' Pate Tamson o' the Hill;'Come awa', quo Johnny, 'Watty! 'haith we'se hae anither gill.'
Watty glad to see Jock Jabos, and sae mony neighbours roun',Kicket frae his shoon the sna'ba's, syne ayont the fire sat down.
Owre a broad, wi' bannocks heapet, cheese and stoups, and glasses stood;Some war roarin, ithers sleepit, ithers quietly chew't their cude.
Jock was sellin' Pate some tallow, a' the rest a racket hel',A' but Walty, wha poor fallow sat and smoket by himsel'.
Mungo fill't him up a toothfu’ drank his health and Meg's in age:Watty puffin' out a mouthfu', pledg'd him wi' a dreary grane.
'What's the matter, Watty, wi' you! 'trouth your chafts are a' fa'n in!'Something's wrang———I'm wae to see you——— 'Gudelake! bur ye're desp'rate thin.'
'Ay,' quo Watty, 'things are alter't, 'but it's paft redemption now;'L———d! I wish I had been halter'd 'whan I married Maggy How
'I've been poor, and vex'd, and raggy, 'try'd wi' troubles no that sma';'Them I bore———but marrying Maggy 'laid the cap stane o' them a'.
'Night and day she's ever yelpin. 'wi' the weans she ne'er can gree;'When she's tyr'd wi' perfect skelpin, 'then she flies like fire on me.
'See ye, Mungo! when she'll clash on 'wi' her everlasting clack,'Whiles I've had my nieve, in passion, 'lifted up to break her back!
'O, for Gudesake keep frae cuffets! Mungo shook his head and said,'Weel I ken what sort o' life it's; 'ken ye Watty, how I did?
'After Bess and I war kippl't, 'soon she grew like ony bear:'Brake my shins, and when I tippl't, 'harlt out my very hair.
'For a wer I quietly knuckl't, 'but whan naething wou'd prevail,'Up my claes and cash I buckl't, 'Bess! for ever fair ye well.
'Then her din grew less and less aye, 'haith I gart her change her tune:'Now a better wife than Bessy never stept in leather shoon.
'Try this, Watty———Whan ye see her 'raging like a roarin flood,'Swear that moment that you'll lea' her; 'that's the way to keep her gude.'
Laughing, sangs, and lasses' skirls, echo'd now out thro' the roof,Done: quo Pate, and syne his arles nail't the Dyster's wauket loof.
I' the thrang o' stories telling, shaking hauns and ither cheer;Swith! a chap comes on the hallan, 'Mungo! is our Watty here?'
Maggie's weel kend tongue and hurry, darted thro' him like a knife;Up the door flew———like a fury in came Watty's scawlin wife.
'Nasty, gude for-naething being! 'O ye snuffy, drunken sow!'Bringan wife and weans to ruin, 'drinkin here wi' sic a crew!
'De'il nor your twa legs were broken! 'sic a life nae flesh endures.———'Toilen like a slave to sloken 'you, you dyvour and your 'hores!
'Rise! ye drunken beast o' Bethel! 'drink's your night and day's desire:'Rise! this precious hour! or faith I'll 'sling your whisky in the fire!'
Watty heard her tongue unhallowt, paid his groat wi' little din!Left the house, while Maggy followt, flyting a' the road behin'.
Fowk from every door came lampin', Maggy curst them ane and a',Clappit wi' her hauns, and stampin', lost her bauchles i' the sna'.
Hame, at length, she turn'd the gavel, wi' a face as white's a clout,Ragin' like a very devil, kicken stools and chairs about.
'Ye'll sit wi' your limmers round ye! 'hang you, Sir, I'll be your death!'Little hauds my hauns, confound you! 'but I cleave you to the teeth.'
Watty, wha midst this Oration, ey'd her whyles, but durstna speak,Sat like patient Resignation, trem'ling by the ingle cheek.
Sad his wee drap brose he sippet, Maggy's tongue gaed like a bell,Quietly to his bed he slippet, sighin' aften to himsel.
Nane are free frae some vexation, 'Ilk ane has his ills to dree;'But thro' a' the hale creation 'is a mortal vext like me!'
A' night lang he rowt and gauntet, sleep nor rest he cou'dna tak;Maggy, aft wi' horror haunted, mum'lan, started at his back.
Soon as e'er the morning peepet, up raise Watty, waefu' chiel,Kist his weanes while they sleepit, waukens Meg, and sought farewel.
'Farewel, Meg !———And, O! may Heav'n 'keep you aye within his care;'Watty's heart ye’ve lang been grievin', 'now he'll never fash you mair.
'Happy cou'd I been beside you, 'happy baith at morn and e'en:A' the ill did e'er betide you, 'Watty aye turn'd out your frien'.
'But ye ever like to see me 'vext an sighan, late an air;'Farewel, Meg! I've sworn to lea' thee, 'so thou'll never see me mair.'
Meg a' fabban, sae to lose him, sic a change had never wist;Held his haun close to her bosom, while her heart was like to burst.
'O my Watty! will ye lea' me, 'frien'less, helpless, to despair!'O! for this at time forgi'e me: 'never will I vex you mair.'
'Aye! ye've aft said that, and broken 'a' your vows ten times a week,'No, no, Meg! See!———there's a token, 'glittering on my bonnet cheek.
'Owr the seas I march this morning, 'lislet, testit, sworn and a','Forc'd by your confounded girning; 'farewel, Meg! for I'm awa'.
Then poor Maggy's tears and clamour gusht afresh, and louder grew,While the weans. wi' mournfu' yammer, round their sabban mither flew.
'Thro' the yirth I'll wander wi' you——— 'stay, O Watty! stay at hame,'Here, upon my knees I'll gi'e you 'ony vow ye like to name,
'See your poor young lammies pleadin, 'Will ye gang and break our heart?'No a house to put our head in! 'no a frien' to tak our part.'
Ilka word came like a bullet, Watty's heart begoud to shake;On a kist he laid his wallet, dighted baith his een and spake.
'If ance mair I cou'd by writing, 'lea' the sogers and stay still,'Wad you swear to drap your flyting?' 'Yes, O Watty! yes, I will.'
'Then,' quo Watty, 'mind, be honest, 'aye to keep your temper strive;'Gin ye break this dreadfu' promise, 'never mair expect to thrive.
'Marget How! this hour you solemn 'swear by ev'ry thing that's good,'Ne'er again your spouse to scald him, 'while life warms thy heart and blood.
'That ye'll ne'er in Mungo's seek me ——— 'ne'er put drunken to my name ———'Never out at e'ening steek me ——— 'never gloom when I come hame.
'That ye'll ne'er, like Bessy Miller, 'kick my shins, or rug my hair ———'Lastly, I'm to keep the siller, 'this upon your soul you swear!'
'O———h?' quo Meg, 'A weel,' quo Watty, 'farewel! Faith I'll try the seas,''O stan still,' quo Meg, 'and grant aye; 'Ony, ony way you please,
Maggy syne, because he prest her, swore to a' things owr again:Watty lap, and danc't, and kist her, wow! but he was won'rous fain.
Down he threw his staff victorious; aff gaed bonnet, claes, and shoon;Syne below the blankets, glorious; held anither Hinny-Moon.