Watty and Meg, or, The wife reformed (3)

by Alexander Wilson (1766-1813)

For other versions of this work, see Watty and Meg.

Watty & Meg;

OR, THE

WIFE REFORMED.

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A TALE.

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We dream in Courtship, but in Wedlock wake.

GLASGOW:

Published and Sold Wholesale and Retail, by

R. Hutchison & Co. 10, Saltmarket.

1817.

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WATTY AND MEG.

KEEN the frosty winds war blawin',
deep the snaw had wreathed the ploughs,
Watty, weary't a' day sawin',
daunert down to Mungo Blue's.
Dryster Jock was sitting cracky,
wi' Pate Tamson o' the hill;
"Come awa'," quo' Johny, "Watty!
haith we'se ha'e anither gill.”
Watty, glad to see Jack Jabes,
and sae mony neighbours roun',
Kicket frae his shoon the sna' ba's,
syne ayont the fire sat down.
Owre a broad wi' bannocks heapet,
cheese and stoups, and glasses stood;
Some war roarin', ithers sleepit,
ithers quietly chewed their cude.
Jock was sellin' Pate some tallow,
a' the rest a racket hel',
A' but Watty, wha, poor fellow,
şat and smoket by himsel';
Mungo fill't him up a toothfu',
drank his health and Megg's in ane;
Watty puffin' out a mouthfu',
pledg'd him wi' a dreary grain.
"What's the matter, Watty, wi' you ?
trouth your chafts are fa'ing in!
Something's wrang-I'm vext to see you-
gudesake! but ye're desp'rate thin."
"Ay, quo' Watty, things are alter't,
but its past redemption now!
For O I wish I had been halter'd,
when I marry'd Maggy Howe!
I've been poor, and vext, and raggy,
try't wi troubles no that sma';
Them I bore-but marrying Maggy
laid the capstane o' them a'!
Night and day she's ever yelpin',
wi' the weans she ne'er can 'gree;
When she's tir'd wi' perfect skelpin',
then she flies like fire on me!
See ye, Mungo, then she'll clash on
wi' her everlasting clack;
Whyles I've had my nieve, in passion,
liftet up to break her back!
"O for gudesake, keep frae cuffets!"
Mungo shook his head, and said,
"Weel I ken what sort o' life it is!
ken ye, Watty how I did?
After Bess and I were kippit,
soon she grew like ony bear!
Brak my shins, and when I tippl't,
harl't out my very hair!
For a wee I quietly knucklt,
but when naething would prevail,
Up my claes and cash I buckl't;
Bess, for ever fare ye well!
Then her din grew less and less aye;
haith I gart her change her tune;
Now a better wife than Bessy
never stept in leather shoon.
Try this Watty-Whan ye see her
raging like a roarin flood!
Swear that moment that ye'll lea' her!
that's the way to keep her gude."
Laughing, sangs, and lassies, skirls,
echo'd now out through the roof;
Done, quo' Pate, and syne his erls,
nail't the Dryster's wauket loof;
I' the thrangest stories telling,
shaking hauns, and ither cheer,
Swith! a chap comes in the hallan,
!Mungo, is our Watty here?"
Maggy's weel kent tongue and hurry,
darted through him like a knife !
Up the door flew like a fury!
in came Watty's scaulin wife;
Scarcely had she crossed the thrashold,
till she rais'd a clam'rous din,
Which made Watty shak an' tremble,
for to hear her thus begin:
"Ye nasty gude-for-naething being!
O ye snuffy drunken sow!
Bringan wife an' weans to ruin,
drinkin' here wi' sic a crew!
Devil nor your legs were broken!
sic a life na flesh endures,
Toilan like a slave to slocken
you, you dyvour, and your 'hores,
Rise! you drunken beast o' Bethel!
drink's your night and day's desires;
Rise this precious hour, or faith I'll
fling your whiskey i' the fire,"
Watty heard her tongue unhallow,
pay't his groat wi' little din;
Left the house, while Maggy fallow't,
flyting a' the road behin',
Fowk frae every door came lampin',
Maggy curst them ane and a';
Claupit wi' her hauns, and stampin',
lost her bauchles i' the sna',
Hame at length she turned the gavel,
wi' a face as whites a clout,
Ragin' like a very devil,
kicking stools and chairs about!
"Ye'll sit wi' your limmers round you!
hang you Sir ! I'll be your death!
Little hauds my hands, confound you!
but I'll cleave you to the teeth!"
Watty, wha 'midst this oration,
ey'd her whiles, but durstna' speak,
Sat like patient resignation,
trem'ling by the ingle cheek;
Sad his wee drap brose he sipper,
Maggy's tongue gaed like a bell;
Quietly to his bed he slippet,
sighan af'en to himsel';
"Nane are free frae some vexation,
ilk ane has his ills to dree;
But, thro' a' the hale creation
is a mortal vext like me?"
A' night lang he rowt and gauntet,
sleep nor rest he cou'dna tak;
Maggy, aft wi' horror hauntet,
mum'lan started at his back.
Soon as e'er the morning peepet,
up raise Watty, waefu' chiel !
Kist bis weans while they sleepit,
waukent Meg, and sought farewel.
"Farewel, Meg!—And O may heav'n
keep you ay within his care;
Watty's heart ye’ve lang buen grievin',
now he'll never fash you mair.
Happy cou'd I been beside you;
happy baith at morn an e'en!
A' the ills that e'er betide you,
Watty ay turn'd out the frien',
But ye ever like to see me
vext and sighan late and air;
Farewel, Meg, I've sworn to lea' thee,
so thou'll never see ne mair."
Meg, a sabban, sae to lose him,
sic a change had never wist,
Held his haun close to her bosom,
while her heart was like to burst.
“O my Watty, will ye lea' me,
frien'less, helpless, to despair,
O for this ae time forgi'e me,
never will I vex you mair."
"Ay, ye’ve aft said that, and broken
a' your vows ten times a week;
No, no, Meg, see there's a token
glittering on my bonnet cheek.
Owre the seas I march this morning,
listet, testet, sworn an'a',
Forced by your confounded girning,
farewel, Meg, for I'm awa'."
Then poor Maggy's tears and clamour
gushed afresh and louder grew,
While the weans, wi' mournfu yammer,
round their sabban mother flies,
"Thro' the yirth I'll wauner wi' you,
stay, O Watty, stay at hame;
Here upon my knee, I'll gie you
ony vow you like to name,
See your poor young lammies pleadin',
will ye gang and break our hearts!
No a house to put our head in,
no a friend to tak our part."
Ilka word came like a bullet,
Watty's heart begeud to shake;
On a kist he laid his wallet,
dighted baith his e'en and spake:
"If ance mair I could, by writing,
lea' the sodgers and stay still,
Wad you swear to drap your flyting;
"Yes, O Watty, yes I will,"
'Then' quo' Watty," mind, be hones',
aye to keep your temper strive;
Gin ye break this dreadfu' promise,
never mair expect to thrive,
Margret Howe, this hour ye solemn
swear by evey thing that's gude,
Ne'er again your spouse to scald him;
while life warms your heart and blood,
That ye'll ne'er in Mungo's seek me-
ne'er put drunken to my name-
Never out at eening steek me-
never gloom when I come hame-
That you ne'er, like Bessy Miller,
kick my shins, or rug my hair-
Lastly, I'm to keep the siller-
this upon your soul you swear?".
'Oh,' quo' Meg-'Aweel', quo' Watty,
farewel, faith I'll try the seas."
"O stan' still," quo' Meg, and grat ay
“ Ony, ony way you please;"
Maggy tyne, because he prest her,
swore to a' thing owr again.
Watty lap, and danc't and kist her,
wow but he was won'rous fain,
Down he threw his staff victorious,
aff gaed bonnet, claes and shoon,
Syne below the blaukets glorious,
they enjoy'd the honey-moon.

FINIS.