( 42 )
Jock. O! Maggy, Maggy my Mither's lost her breath, (ſhe'll no live lang without it) I doubt ſhe's dead already, an nae body ſeen her but ye an I an ourſels tho an ſhe had been fair o'er ſoen it maxna, I'll no had this a fair ſtrae death indeed, fy Maggy cry in a the neighbours to ſee her die altho' ſhe be dead. O an ſhe wad but ſhake her fit or wag her muckle tae, it wad be ay ſome ſatisfaction; but in came the neighbours in a huſh dinging ither o'er in the door. Come awa ſirs, for my mither's as dead's a mauk guid be thanker; but I had rather it had been the black mare or the mukle rigget cow, for weel I wat I'll e'en miſs her, for ſhe was a bra' ſpinner o' tow, an cou'd a cardet to twa muckle wheels, ſhe had nae faut but ane an that was her tongue, but ſhe'll ſpeak nae mair, fy gets a deal or a barn door to ſtraight her on, for a y whan ſhe was cauld ſhe was unco kinckert an ill to curch, but I'ſe hae her yerdet or Wedneſday teen.
Come ſays Maggy wi maun hae her dreſt.
Jock. What does the fool mean wad ye dreſs a dead woman, ſhe'll never gang to kirk nor market again.
Mag. A dear John be at eaſe, ye ken ſhe mauna be burried as ſhe is, a ſark and a winding ſheet is the leaſt ſhe can get.
Jock. Ah ha, Maggy is that what you mean ſhe has a good new winding ſheet, it was never about her ſhoulders yet, ſae maggy do it a' yourſel and I'ſe gar Clinkum Bell meaſure the grave an make it.
