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THRUMMY CAP.
A TALE.
In ancient times, far i‘ the north,A hunder miles ayont the forth,Upon a stormy winter day,Twa men forgather‘d o‘ the way,Ane was a sturdy bardoch chielAn‘ frae the weather happit weel,Wi‘ a mill‘d plaiding jockey-coatAnd eke he on his head had gotA thrummy cap baith large and stont,Wi‘ flaps ahind, as weel‘s a snout,Whilk button‘d close aneath his chin,To keep the cauld frae getting in:Upon his legs he had gammashes,Whilk sodgers term their spatterdashesAn’ on his hands, instead o’ gloves,Large doddy mittens, whilk he‘d rooseFor warmness, an‘ an aiken stick,Nae verra lang, but unco thick,Intill his nieve—he drave awa’,But car’d for neither frost nor snaw,The ither was just the reverse,O‘ claes and courage baith was scarce,Sae in our tale, as we go on,I think we’ll ca’ him cow’rldy John.Sae on they gade at a gude scowe’r,’Cause that they saw a gath’ring shower,
