But sen ye will Hussyskep ken, First ye maun sift and syne sall kned; And ay as ze gang butt and ben, Luke that the Bairns dryt not the Bed: And lay a saft Wysp to the Kiln, We haif a dear Farm on our Heid; And ay as ze gang forth and in, Keip weil the Gaislings frae the Gled. The wyfe was up richt late at Ene, And on hir Heart laid hir Disjune, As micht haif serd them baith at Nune, Says, Jok, be thou Maister of Wark, He draif the Gaislings forth to feid, Thair was but sevensum of them aw, And by thair comes the greidy Gled, And lickt up five, left him but twa: Then out he ran in all his Mane, How sune he hard the Gaislings cry; But than or he came in again, The Kaves brak louse and suckt the Ky. The Kaves and Ky met in the Loan, The Man ran with a Rung to red, Than by came an illwilly Roan, And brodit his Buttoks till they bled: Syne up he tuke a Rok of Tow, Quod he this Wark has ill Beginning. The Leam up thro the Lum did flow, Quherwith he slokened out the Fyre: Hynd to the Kirn then did he stoure, Zit he was cummert with the Kirn, Then ben their cam a greidy Sow, And ay scho winkit, and ay scho drank. That Straik dang baith thair Harns out. Then he bure Kendlin to the Kill, But scho start all up in a Low, Quhat eir he heard what eir he saw, He kendna now what next to do. Then he zied to take up the Bairns, Thocht to have fund them fair and clene; The first that he gat in his Arms, The first it smellt sae sappylie, To touch the lave he did not grein: That cramd zour Kytes sae strute zestrein. Then up he gat on a Know-heid, On hir to cry, on hir to schout; Scho lowst the Plewch, and syne came hame; Quoth he, my Office I forsake, For all the hale Days of my Lyfe; But zit ze may be blyth to get it. Then up scho gat a mekle Rung; And the Gudeman made to the Dore, For I and this House will nevir do weil. This is one of the most exquisite comic Ballads, to be found in the language. It was first made known to the general reader by Allan Ramsay, who published it in his Ever-green from the Bannatyne MSS., where it is subscribed Moffat; but whither this be John Moffat, author of a pious piece, "Remember the End," printed in Hailes collection of ancient 66 A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, "And fast before her father's men Outspoke the hardy Highland wight "And by my word! the bonny bird "So, though the waves are raging white, |