THE COMICAL HISTORY OF SIMPLE JOHN AND HIS TWELVE MISFORTUNES.
THE COMICAL HISTORY OF SIMPLE JOHN AND HIS TWELVE MISFORTUNES.
Simple John was a widow’s son, and a coarse country weaver to his trade; he made nothing but such as canvas for caff-beds, corn and coal-sacks, druggit and harn was the finest webs he could lay his fingers to; he was a great lump of a lang lean lad, aboon sax fit high afore he was aughteen year auld, and as he said himsel he grew sae fast and was in sic a hurry to be high, that he did not stay to bring a’ his judgment wi’ him, but yet he hoped it would follow him, and he would meet wi’t as mony a are does after they’re married; he had but ae sister, and she had as little sense as himsel, she was married on Sleeky Willy, the wylie weaver, his mither was a rattling rattle-scul’d wife, and they lived a’ in ae house, and every body held them as a family of fools. When John came to man’s state, to the age of twenty-one years, he tell’d his mither he would hae a wife o’ some sort, either young or auld, widow or lass, if they had but head and hips, tongue and tail, he shou’d tak them, and weel I wat mither, quoth he, they’ll get a lumping penny-worth o’ me, get me wha will.
His mither tells him o’ the black butcher on Ti’ot-side, who had three dochters, and every ane of them had something, there was Kate, Ann, and Girzy, had hunder merks the piece, Kate and Ann had both bastards. Girzy the eldest had a hump back, a high breast, baker legs, a short wry neck, thrawn mouth, and goggle ey’d, a perfect Æsop of the female kind, with as many crooked conditions within as without, a very lump of loun-like ill nature, row’d a’ together, as if she had been nine months in a haggies, a second edition of crooked backed Richard an old English king, that was born wi’ teeth to bite a’ round about him; and yet the wight gaed mad to be married.
John’s mother tell’d him the road where to go, and what to say, and accordingly he sets out wi’ his sunday’s coat on, and a’ his braws, and a pair o’ new pillonian breeks o’ his mither’smaking. In he comes and tell’d his errand before he would sit down, says good day to you goodman, what are you a’ doing here? I am wanting a wife, an’ ye’re a flesher and has a gude sorting aside you, my mither says ye can sair me or ony body like me, what say ye till’t goodman, how mony dochters hae ye? are they a’ married yet? I fain wou’d tak a look o’ some o’ them gin ye like.
A wow said the goodwife come in by honest lad and rest you, an ye be a wooer sit down an gi’s a snuff; a deed goodwife I hae nae mill but my mither’s, and it’s at hame. A whar win ye, I’se no ken ye; I wat quoth he, my name’s Jock Sandeman, they ca’ me simple John the sack weaver, I hae nae tocher but my loom, a pirn wheel, a kettle pat, a brass pan, twa piggs, four cogs and a candlestick, a good cock, a cat, two eerocks new begun to lay; my sister Sara is married on sleeky Willie the wylie weaver, and I maun hae a hagwife or my mither die, for truly she’s very frail, and ony harle o’ health she has is about dinner-time; what say ye till’t, goodman? can ye buckle me or no?
Goodman. A dear John ye’re in an unco haste, ye wadna hae you’re wife hame wi’ ye? they’re a’ there before ye, which o’ them will ye tak?
Hout tout says John, ony o’ them ’ill sare me, but my mither says there’s twa o’ them has fauts: and what is their fauts said the goodwife, hout said John, it’s no meikle faut, but I dinna like it, they got men or they were married. And what shall I do wi’ them said the goodman.
John. A deed goodman as ye’re ay dealing among dead beasts and living beasts, I wad put them awa amang ither beasts, or gin ye be aun ony penny, let some body tak them up o’ desperate debt, I sud flay the sikes frae them, they anger’d you an’ sham’d you baith wi’ their bastards, a wheen daft jades it gets men or they be married, and bairns or they get bridals.
Goodwife. A wat weel that’s true lad.
Girzy. A weel John than, will ye tak me, I hae nae bastards, how will you and I do?
John. I watna gin ye be able to get a bastard, yet ye may hae some war faut; but ye maun be my pennyworth for ye’re unco little, and I’m o’er muckle, and gin ye and I war ance cairded thro’ ither, we may get bonny weans o’ a midlen mak; I hae nae fauts to ye, but ye hae a high breast, a hump back, a short neck, and high shoulders, the hands and legs may do, tho’ your mouth be a wee bit to the tae side it will ly well to the rock and I hae a hantle o’ tow to spin, will be baith sarks and sacks till us, ye’ll be my sonsy dauty up and down; a perfect beauty, wi’ cats yellow een, black brows and red lips, and your very nose is a purpey colour, ye hae nae fauts at a’: now whan will we be married.
Girzy. Ha, ha, John lad, we maun think on that yet.
John. What the yeltow lass, shoudna ye be ready whan I’m ready, and every body says that the women’s aye ready.
Goodman. Ye’ll hae to come back and bring somebody wi’ you, and we’ll gree about it, and set the day whan ye’ll be married.
John. A well goodman I’ll tell my mither o’t, and come back on munonday, and we’ll hae a chappin o’ ale and roasted cheese on the gude chance o’t, but I maun hae a word o’ the bride outby to convoy me, an a quiet speak to hersel about it.
Good wife. A wow na John, the daft louns will laugh at you, and she’ll think shame, gang ye out by and she’ll speak to you thro’ the gavel window.
Out goes John, and the bride and her twa sisters goes to the window within to hear the diversion, and what he would say; now says John, Girzy my dear, my braw pretty woman, an ye be in earnest tell me, for by my suthe I’m no scorning.
Girzy. Indeed John I’m very willing to tak you, but ye need na tell every body about it.
John. Then gi’ me a kiss on that? He shutes his head in at the window, making a lang neck to win down to her, and she stood on a little stool to win up to him, O cries he, an ye were good flesh I could eat you a’ I like you sae well, it’s a pity there is sic a hard wa’ a ’tween us, I’se tell my mither sae bonny as ye’re: O gi’ me anither kiss yet an then I’ll go;one of her sisters standing by in a dark corner, get’s ha’d of a cow’s head which wanted a’ the skin but about the mouth, and shutes it towards his mouth, which he kiss’d in the dark, O cry’d he, but your mouth be cauld since I kiss’d ye last, and I think ye hae a beard, I saw nae that afore, or is’t wi’ spinning tow that maks your mouth sae rough at e’en?
Hame he comes, and tells his mither the speed and properties of the marriage; a’ things was got ready, and next week sleeky Willy the weaver and him came to gree the marriage and stay a’ night wi’ the bride, and teach John gude manners, for whan John was hungry he minded his meat more than his gude behaviour, and as he never was fu’ till the dish was tume, Willy the weaver was to tramp on his fit when he thought he had supped enough; so all things being agreed upon short and easy terms and the wedding day sett, they were to be three times cry’d on Sunday and quietly married on Munonday, neither piper nor fidler to be employ’d, but sweith awa’ hame frae the minister, and into the bed amang the blankets, ha, ha, cries John, that’s the best o’t a’.
Now every thing being concluded and proposed, the supper was brought, a large fat haggies, the very smell would done a hungry body gude, but John had only got twa or three soups until are of the butcher’s meikle dogs tramped on John’s fit, which he took to be the weaver, and then he would sip no more; after supper they went to bed, John and the weaver lay together, and then he abused the weaver for tramping sae soon which he denied; but O, said John, there’s a hantle o’t left, and I saw where it was set, they’re a’ sleeping, I’ll go rise and tak a soup o’t yet, ay een do sae said Sleeky Willy, and bring a soup to me too; away then John goes to the amry and lays to the haggies, till his ain haggies cou’d had nae mair, then brings the rest to Sleeky Willy, but instead of going to the bed whare he was, goes to the bed whare the bride and her twa sisters lay, they being fast asleep, speaks slowly, will ye tak it, will ye tak it, but they making no answers, he turns up the blankets to put a soup into Willy’s mouth, but instead of doing so, he puts a great spoonful closeinto one of their backsides, Sleeky Willy hears all that past, comes out o’ the bed, and sups out the remainders, and sets up the dish whare it was, leaves the amry door open to let the cats get the blame of supping the haggies, and awa’ they goes to bed, but poor John cou’d get nae sleep for drouth, up he gets in search of the water can, and finding an empty pitcher, puts in his hand to find if there was any water in it, but finding none, he closed his hand when it was within the pitcher, and then could not get it out, goes to the bed and tells Sleeky Willy what had happened him, who advised him to open the door and go out to a knocking-stane that stood before the door, and break it there to get out his hand, and not to mak a noise in the house, so out he goes, but the bride’s sister who had gotten the great spoonful of the haggies laid to her backside was out before him, rubbing the nastiness (as she took it to be) off the tail of her sark, and she being in a louting posture, he took her for the knocking-stane, and comes o’er her hurdies with the pitcher, till it flew in pieces about her, then off she runs wi’ the fright, round a turf stack and into the house before him; John comes in trembling to the bed again wi’ the fright, praying to preserve him, for sic a knocking stane he never saw, for it ran clean awa’ when he brake the pigg upon it.
Now John was furnished in a house by his Father-in-law, the bed, loom, heddles, treadles, thrums, reeds and pirn-wheel was a’ brought and set up, before the marriage, which was kept as a profound secret; so that John got the first night of his ain wife, and his ain house a’ at ae time: So on the next morning after the marriage, John and his wife made up some articles, how they were to work, and keep house, John was to keep the house in meat, meal, fire, and water; Girzy was to mak the meat and keep the house in clothes, the Father-in-law to pay their rent for three years, they were to hae no servants, until they had children, and the first child was to be a John after its ain Daddy, get it wha will, if a boy, and if a girl, Girzy after its ain Minny, as he said, wha had wrought best for’t.[170]
I. Then she ordered John to rise and begin his work, by putting on a fire, and take the twa new piggs and gang to the well, no sooner had John opened the door, and gone out with a pigg in every hand, than a’ the boys and girls being gathered in a croud to see him, gave a loud huzza, and clapping their hands at him, poor John not knowing what it meant, thought it was fine sport, began to clap his hands too, and not minding the two piggs, clashes the tane against the tither, till baith went in pieces, and that was a chearful huzza, to baith young and auld that was looking at him. Girzel the wife draws him into the house, and to him she flies with the wicked wife’s wapons, her Tongue and Tangs, made his ribbs to crack, saying, They tell’d me ye was daft, but I’ll ding the daffing out o’ ye, I’ll begin wi’ ye as I’m amind to end wi’ ye; poor John sat crying and clawing his lugs. Ha, ha, said he, its nae bairns play to be married, I find that already; his Mither-in-law came in and made up peace, went to a cooper, and got them a big wooden stoup to carry in their water.
II. Next morning John was sent to the flesh-market an errand to his Father-in-law, who gave him a piece of flesh to carry home, and as he was coming out of the market, he saw six or seven of the fleshers-dogs fall on and worry at a poor country colley dog, Justice, justice, cries John to the dogs, ye’re but a wheen unmannerly raskel’s, that fa’s a on ae poor beast, heth ye sude a’ be put in the toubooth, and tane to the bailies, and hang’d for the like o’ that, it’s perfect murder, and in he runs amongst the dogs, and be hang’d to you a’ the-gither, What is the quarrel? What is the quarrel? John flings down the flesh he had carrying, and grips the colley, who took John for an enemy too, and bites his hands, till the blood followed, the whole of the tykes comes on a poor John, till down he goes in the dirt amongst their feet, and one of the dogs runs off with his flesh, so John went hame both dirty and bloody without his flesh, tell’d Girzy how it happened,who applied her old plaister, her tangs and tongue, made John to curse the very minister that married them, and wished he might never do a better turn.
III. Next morning, John was sent to the well with the great stoup to bring in water for breakfast, and as he was pulling the stoup out of the well, in he tumbles, and his head down, the well being narrow, he you’d na win out, some people passing, by chance heard the slunge, cried, and runs to his relief, hail’d him out half dead, and helped him into the house, and after getting a dry sark, he was comforted with the old plaister, her tongue and the hard tangs.
IV. Next day, she says, John, I must go to the market myself, for if you go, you’ll fight wi’ the dogs, and let them run awa’ wi’ ony thing ye buy, see that ye put on the pot, and hae’t boiling again I come hame; John promised well, but performs very badly, she’s no sooner gone, than he puts on the new pot without any water in it, and a good fire to make it boil, and away he goes to the unhappy well, fills his stoup and sets it down, to look at a parcel of boys playing at Cat and Dog, they perswades John to take a game wi’ them, on he plays till are o’ the boys cries, hy John, yonder’s your Girzy coming. John runs into the house wi’ the water, and the pot being red hot on the fire, he tumes in the cold water into it, which made the pot flee all in pieces, just as she was entering the door. John runs for it, and she runs after him, crying, haud the thief, some persons stop’d him, she comes up, and then she laboured him all the way home, and he crying, O sirs, ye see what it is to be married; the Mither-in-law had to make up a peace again, and he promised good behaviour in time to come.
V. On the next morning she sent him to the water to wash some cows puddings, and turn them on a spindle, showing him how he was to do or he went away; John goes to the water very willingly, and as he turn’d and wash’d them, he laid them down behind him, where one of his Father-in-law’s big dogs stood, and ate them up as fast as he laid them down till all was gone but the very last one, which he carried homein his hand, crying like a child, and underwent a severe tost of the old plaister, before any mercy was shown.
VI. His Father-in-law next day sent him away to bring home a fat calf he had bought in the country, and tied up the money in a napkin, which he carried in his hand for fear he should lose it, being very weighty as it was all in halfpence, and as he was going alongst a bridge, he meets a man running after a horse, who cries to John to stop the horse, John meets him on the top of the bridge, and when he wou’d not be stopped for him, he knocks the horse on the face wi’ the napkin and the money, so the napkin broke and most of the half-pence flew over the bridge in the water, which made poor John go home crying very bitterly for his loss, and dread of the auld plaister which he got very sickerly.
VII. On the next morning, she sent him again to the bridge to see if he you’d find any of it in the water, and there he found some ducks sweeming, and ducking down with their heads below the water, as he thought gathering up his money he kills one of them and rips her up, but found none of it in her guts or gabbie, then says he, they have been but looking for it, I’ll go do as they did, strips off his clothes and leaves them on the bridge, goes in a ducking, in which time a rag man came past and took away all his clothes, so he went home naked to get a bath of the old plaister.
VIII. The next morning she sent him to a farm house for a piggful of butter milk, and as he was returning through the fields the farmer’s bull and anither bull was fighting, the farmer’s bull being like to lose, John runs in behind him and sets his head to the bull’s tail, in purpose to help him to push against the other, but the poor bull thought John was some other bull attacking him behind, fled aside, and the other bull came full-drive upon John, pushed him down, broke the pigg and spilt the milk, so John went home to his auld plaister, which began to be an usual diet to him, and so he regarded it the less.
IX. His Mother-in-law with several auld witty wives held a private counsel on John’s conduct and bad luck, and concluded he was bewitched, John was of the same opinion, and went to the minister, and told him he was the cause of a’ his misfortunes, ca’d him a warlock to his face, and said, he had put such a black bargain in his hand, that he was ruin’d for ever; insisted either to unmarry them again, or send death and the bell-man to take her awa’, for she has a lump of mischief on her back and anither on her breast, and the rest of her body is a clean deil. The minister began to exhort him to peace and patience, telling him that marriage was made in heaven: ye’re a baist liar, says John, for I was married in your ain kitchen, an a’ the blackguards about the town was there, an it had a-been heaven they wadna win in, yet tell’t me that matrimony was sic a happy state, but an ye had gotten as mony we’ll paid skins as I hae gotten, ye wad ken what it is; ill chance on you stir, and out he goes, cursing like a madman, throwing stanes, and breaking the minister’s windows, for which he was catch’d and put twa hours i’ the stocks, and at last his Lump of Corruption came and rubbed his lugs, threw his nose, got him out, and drove him home before her; took a resolution never to set him about any bisiness in time coming, but keep him on his loom.
X. Now she giving him no sleep a’ that night for scolding; John got up in the morning lang or day, leaving his tormentor in bed; fell asleep upon his loom with his candle in his hand, and so set the web, heddles, reed, and treadle cords in a fire, by chance his old Viper looked out of the bed, or the whole house had been gone; up she got, and with her cries alarm’d the neighbourhood who came to her relief, but poor John underwent a dreadful swabing for this.
XI. After the former hurry and beating being over, his work being stopt, he went to bed and sleept a’ that day, and following night, on the next day having nothing to do; she sent him in search of a hen’s-nest, who had taken some by-place to lay her eggs in, so as poor John was in an auld kill searching a’ about the walls, the kill-ribs brake, and down he goes with a vengeance into the logie cutted and bruised himself in a terrible manner, up he could not win, but had tocreep out at the logie below, scarcely able to get hame, his face and nose a’ running o’ blood, in this condition she pitied and lamented for him very much, tied his sores and laid him in bed, then sat down very kindly, saying, My dear and my lamb, do ye think there is ony o’ your banes broken, and what part o’ you is sairest? And what will I get to do you good? O! said he Girzy I’m a brizel’d atween the feet; Are ye indeed quoth she, then I wish ye had broken your neck, that I might a gotten anither, useless ae way, and useless mae ways, a po’ my word, ye’s no be here, gang whar ye like.
XII. Now, as poor John was turn’d out o’ doors next morning, to go awa’ hirpling on a staff, one came and told him his Mother had died last night, Oh hoch, said John, and is my Mither clean dead; O an she wad but look down thro’ the lift, and see how I’m guided this morning, I’m sure she wad send death for me too: I’m out o’ a mither, and out o’ a wife, out o’ my health and strength and a’ my warklooms. His mother-in-law came and pleaded for him: haud your tongue, mither, said Girzy, if ye kend what ail’d him, ye wadna speak about him, he’s useless, no worth the keeping in a house, but to ca’ him to die like an auld beast at a dyke-side, hout tout, co’ the auld wife, we’ll mak o’ him and he’ll mend again: so John got peace made up after a’, and he was easier mended than the burnt web; got all his treadles and warklooms set in order the wife’s tongue excepted, which was made of wormwood, and the rest of her body of sea-water, which is always in a continual tempest.
So John appeals to a Jedburgh jury, if it be not easier to deal wi’ fools, than headstrong fashous fouks; owns he has but an empty scull, but his wicked wife wants wit to pour judgment into it, never tells him o’ danger till it come upon him, for his mother said, he was a bidable bairn, if ony body had been to learn him wit.
Finis.