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mither’s making. In he comes, and tells his errand before he would sit down, says, good day to you good maun, what are you a’ doing here? I am wanting a wife, and ye’re a flesher, and has gude sorting aside you; my mither says, ye may sair me or ony body like, what say you till’t good, how many dochters have ye? are they a’ married yet? I wad fain take a look o' them gin ye like.
A wow said the goodwife, come in my honest lad and rest you, and be ye wooer, sit down and gi’s a snuff: a deed goodwife I hae nae mills but my mither’s and its at hame, whare win ye I’se no ken yet? I wat quoth he, my name’s Jock Sandeman, they ca’ me Simple John the sack weaver, I hae no tocher but my loom, a pirn wheel, a kettle-pat, a brass pan, twa piggs, four cogs and a candlestick, a gude cock, a cat, twa herocks new begun to lay; my sister Sara is married to sleeky Willy the wylie weaver, and I maun hae a hag wife or my mither die, for truly she’s very frail, and ony harle o’ meat she has is about dinner-time; what say you till’t goodman? can ye buckle me or no?
Goodman. A dear John ye’re in a unco haste, ye wadna hae your wife hame wi’ ye? they’re a three before ye, which o’ them will ye tak?
