24
Ay, there were some forgery chaps had me just sign my neame. “Nay,” says I, “you’ve gotten a wrang pig by the lug, for I cannot write!”, Then a fellow like a lobster, aw leac’d and feathered, ax’t me, “Watty, wull te list? thou’s either be a general or gomeral.” Nay, I winnet, that’s plain; I’s content wi’ a cwot a’ mudder’s spinnin;"
Now, wi’ twee groats and tuppence, I’ll e’en toddle heame,
But ne’er be a swodger, while Watty’s my neame,
Now my mudder ’ll gowel, and my fadder ’ll stare,
When I tell them poor Cowley they’ll never see mair;
Then they’ll bring me a stail; as for Nan she’ll be fain,
To seo I’m return’d to my friends yence again;—
The barn and the byer, and the auld hollow tree,
Will just seem like cronies yen’s fidgin to see:
The shoep aw ken Watty’s voice now. The peat-stack we used to lake round ’ill be burnt ere this! As for Nan, she’ll be owther married or broken-hearted ere now. An’ aw be weel, we’ll hae sic fun, sic fiddlin, dancin, drinkin, singin, and smeukin, till aw’s blue with us—
Amang aw our neybors see wonders I'll tell.
And never mair leave my auld friends or the fell.
THE END.
