Jock.] Ay but mither, we may deny as we will about it but I doubt it will come to my ain door at last.
Mit.] Ye silly sumph an senseless fallow, had ye been knuckle deep wi the dirt drap ye might a said sae, but ye tell’t ma lang fyne that ye couldna lo’e her, she was so lazy an lown like; besides her crooket fit an bow’d legs.
Jock.] Ay, but mither, do ye mind since ye sent me out to gie her the parting kiss at the black hole o’ the peet stack, she rave the button frae my breeks, and wad gar me do’t; and bade me do’t, an cou’d stesh, an blood refuse to, do’t; I’m sure mither, I cou’d ne’er get her wi’ bairn wi’ my breeks on.
Mit.] Na, na, poor simple silly lad, the weans no yours, ilka ane loups on o’ anither, an you’ll get the wayte o’ a’ the bystarts round about.
Up gets Maggy wi’ a rore, and rives her hair, cries her back, belly an baith her sides; the weed and gut gaes thro’ my flesh like lang needles, nails, or elshin irons. Wae be to the day that e’er I saw his face, I had better married a tinkler, or a followed the sogers, as mony a honest man’s dochter has done, and liv’d a better life than I do.
Up gets Joekey an rins o’er the rigs for John Roger's wife; auld Kitty the howdy, but or he wan back she parted wi' Patrick thro’ perfect spite an then lay twa fauld o’er a stool in a swoon.
Jock.] A well, a well sirs, tho’ my first born is e'en dead without seeing the light of the world; yes a' get bread an cheese to the blythemeat, the thing we shou'd a war’d on the banket will fair the burial, an that will ay be some advantage; an Maggy should, die. I maun een tak Jenny the tane is as far a length as the tither; I'sa be furnish’t wi’ a wife between the twa.
But Maggy grew better the next day, and was able to muck, the byre: yet there gaed sic a tittle tatlin thro’ the town, every auld wife tell’d anither o't, and a’ the light hippet hissies that rins between towns
