This page has been validated.
17
THE
MONK AND THE MILLER'S WIFE.
A TALE.
Now lend your lugs, ye benders fine,Wha ken the benefit of wine;And you wha laughing, scud brown ale,Leave jinks a wee, and hear a tale.
An honest miller winn'd in Fife,That had a young and wanton wife,Wha sometimes thol'd the parish-priestTo mak' her man a twa horn'd beast:He paid right mony visits till her,And to keep in with Hab the miller,He endeavour'd aft to mak' him happy,Where'er he kend the ale was nappy.Sic condescension in a pastor,Knit Halbert's love to him the faster;And by his converse, troth 'tis true,Hab learn'd to preach when he was fou.Thus all the three were wonder pleas'd,The wife well serv'd, the man well eas'd.This ground his corns, and that did cherishHimself with dining round the parish.Bess, the good wife, thought it nae skaith,Since she was fit, to serve them baith.
When equal is the night and day,And Ceres gives the schools the play,A youth sprung frae a gentler pater,Bred at Saint Andrew's alma mater,Ae day gawn hameward, it fell late,And him benighted by the gate:To lye without, pit-mark did shore him,
