Mit.] Ill chance on your auld black mouth Marion, did not I send you my good sprittled hen, a pund o’ butter an a sixpence, forby a lippy o' groats an a furlet o’ meal; mak her a guid cogfu o' brose, and put a nuist o’ butter in them, to fill up the hole whare the lown came out, an I’ll send mair or that be done.
Mar.] An it be na better nor the last ye may een keep it to yoursel; our groat meal, an gray meal, sand, dust and feeds, course enough to feed cocks an hens, besides a woman in her condition.
Mit.] A foul be your gabs, ye’re a sae gash o' your gabbies, a wheen fools that stives up your gutses, wi' good meat, to gar the worms turn wanton an wallop in your wames; feed yourselves as I do, wi' hacket kail, brose made o’ groat meal, an gray meal, sand, seeds, dust an weak shilling, ony thing is good enough to fill the guts an mak a t—d o'.
Jock.] Na, na, mither, an the wean wed suck our Maggy, I sud tak it hame in my oxter.
Mit.] O ye fool, Maggy's milk is a mould, salt an sapless lang syne; bot I crow she wad keb at it, as the black ew did at the white ew's lamb the last year, sae speak nae mair o’ Maggy’s milk, nor to compare a cat to a creature, the yeal cats is never kind to the kitlens, an the maiden’s bairns is a' unco weel bred.
Jock.] Na, na, ye’re a mistane mither, Maggy has milk yet, for every pap she has is like a burn pig, I'se warrand ye they’ll haud pints the piece.
Mit.] My man Johnny, let them keep the wean that has the wean, we’ll ne’er miss a pockfu' o' meal now an tan, I wadna hae my bed pisht, and blankets rotten for a bow o' the best o't.
Jock.] O mither! I canna lea't, I like it sae weel, it has twa bonny glancing een, just like mine in ma keeking glass, I wonner how I was able to get the like o’t, indeed mither I think mair o’t, nor I do o' my grey horse, Maggy and the four kye.
