PART II.
Now Wise Willie had a daughter, called Rolloching Jenny, because she spoke thick, sax words at three times, half sense and half nonsense, as her own words and actions will bear witness. She being with child, was brought to bed of a bonnie lass bairn: and a’ the wives in the town, cried, Be-go-laddie, its just like its ain daddy, lang Sandy Tason (or Thomson) we ken by its nose: for Sandy had a great muckle red nose like a lobster-tae, bowed at the point like a hawk’s neb, and Sandy himself said, that it was surely his or some ither body’s, but he had used a’ his birr at the getting o’t, to fey his ability, being the first time e’er he was at sic a business before, and when he had done a’ that man could do at it, said, it was nonsense and shamefa’ him, but he wad rather row his boat round the Bass and back again, or he did the like again: For Wise Willy gade wood at the wean, and said, it had mair ill nature in’t, than the auldest wife about the town, it piss’d the bed, and shute the bed, skirl’d like a wil-cat, and kept him frae his night’s rest; and a’ the auld haggs about the town, ca’d him Sandy de bairn’s daddy, and a’ the young gilly-gawkie lasses, held out their fingers, and cried, Tie, hie, Sandy, the kirk will kittle your hips for yon yet.
And after a’, the blear-ein’d bell-man came bladdering about the buttock-mail, summoned him and her before the hally-band, a court that held in the kirk on Saturday morning; and a’ the bred ladies[180]round about, cried, Ay, ay,Sandy, pay the bill-siller, or we’ll cut the cow’s tail awa’, so poor Sandy suffered sadly in the flesh, besides the penalty and kirk-penance.
But Wise Willy had pity upon them, and gade wi’ them to the kirk-court, what learned folks call the session, Jenny was first called upon, and in she goes where all the hally-band were conveened, elders and youngers, deacons, and dog-payers keeping the door, the cankerdest Carles that could be gotten between Dysart and Dubby-side, white heads and bald heads sitting wanting bonnets, wi’ their white headed staves and hodden-grey jockey-coats about them.
Mess John says, Come away Janet, we’re a’ waiting on you here.
Min. Now Janet, where was this child gotten? you must tell plainly.
Jan. A deed stir, it was gotten amang the black stanes, at the cheek of the crab-holes.
Mess John stares at her, not knowing the place but some of the elders did; then said he, O Janet, but the de’il was busy with you at that time.
Jan. A by my fegs stir, that’s a great lie ye’re telling now, for the de’il wasna thereabout, it I saw, nor nae body else, to bid us do either ae thing or anither, we loo’d ither unco’ weel for a lang time before that, and syne we tell’d ither, and agreed to marry ither like ither honest fouk, than mightna we learn to do the thing married fouk does, without the de’il helping us.
Whisht, whisht, cried they, you should be scurged, fause loon quean it thou is, ye’re speaking nonsense.
Jan. The deil’s i’ the carles, for you and your minister is liars, when ye say it de de’il was helping Sandy and me to get the bairn.
Come, come, say they, pay down the kirk-dues, and come back to the stool the morn, four pound, and a groat to the bell-man.
Jan. The auld thief speed the dearth o’t stir, for less might sair you and your bell-man baith, O but this be a hard warld indeed, when poor honest fouk maun pay for making use o’their ain a—, ye misca’ ay the poor de’il a-hint his back, and gie him the wyte o’ a’ de ill it’s done in the kintry, bastard barns and every thing, and if it be sae as ye say, ye may thank de de’il for that gude four pund and de groat I hae gi’en you, that gars your pots boil brown, and get jockey-coats, and purl-handed sarks and white-headed staves, when my father’s pot wallops up rough bear and blue water.
The woman’s mad, said they, for this money is a’ given to the poor of the parish.
Jan. The poor of the parish, said she, and that’s the way o’t, a fint hate ye gie them but wee pickles o’ pease-meal, didna I see’t in their pocks, and the minister’s wife gie’s naething ava to unco beggars, but bids them gang hame to their ain parish, and yet ye’ll tak de purse frae poor fouks, for naething but playing the loun awee or they be married, and syne cocks them up to be looked on and laught at by every body, a de’il speed you and your justice stir; hute, tute, ye are a coming on me like a wheen colly dogs, hunting awa’ a poor ragget chapman frae the door, and out she comes cursing and greeting: Sandy’s next called upon, and in he goes.
Min. Now Saunders, you maun tell us how this child was gotten?
San. A wow, Mess John stir, you hae bairns o’ your ain, how did you get them? but yours is a’ laddies, and mine is but a lassie, if you’ll tell me how ye got your laddie, I’ll tell you how I got my lassie, and then we’ll be baith alike good o’ the business.
The minister looks at him, hute, tute, Saunders, lay down four pund and a groat, and come back to-morrow to the stool, and give satisfaction to the congregation, you had more need to be seeking repentance for that abominable sin of uncleanness, than speaking so to me.
San. Then there is your siller stir, I hae gotten but poor penny-worths for’t, and ye’ll tell me to repent for’t, what the auld thief needs I repent, when I’m gaun to marry de woman, and then I’ll hae to do’t o’er again every day, or they’ll be nae peace in the house; figs it’s nonsense to pay siller, repent, anddo’t again too, a fine advice indeed master minister, and that is how ye live.
Wise Willy. Now stir, you and master elders, ye manna put them on the black creepy till they be married; they suffered enough at ae time.
A well, a well, said they, but they must marry very soon then.
I trow sae says Sandy, ye’ll be wanting mair siller, fule hate ye’ll do for naething here.
Hame came Sandy, starving o’ hunger, ye might a casten a knot on his lang guts, his mither was baking pease bannocks, up he gets a lump of her leaven into his mouth, auld thief be in your haggies-bag, Sandy, kirk-fouks is ay greedy, ye been wi’ the minister the day, ye’d get a good lang grace, he might a gi’en you meat thou filthy dog that tu is, thou hast the bulk of a little whalpie o’ my leaven in your guts, it wada been four good bannocks and a scone, and a sair’d our Sunday’s dinner, sae wad it een, but an ye keep a reeking house and a rocking cradle three eleven years as I hae done, less o’ that will sair ye yet, baggity beast it tu is, mair it I bore thee now, a hear ye that my dow.
The next exploit was an action at law, against the goodman of Muir-edge, a farmer who lived near by, that kept sheep and swine, his sheep came down and broke into their yards and ate up their kail; the wild hares, they thought, belonged to the same man, as they ran towards his house when they were hunted; the swine came very often in and about their houses, seeking fish guts and ony thing they cou’d get, so it happened that one of their children, sitting easing itself, one of the swine tumbles it over, and bites a piece out of the child’s backside: The whole town rose in an uproar, and after Grunkie, as they called her, they catched her and took her before Wise Willy: Willy takes an ax and cuts two or three inches off her long nose, now says Willy, I trow I have made thee something Christian-like, thou had sic a long mouth and nose before, it wad a frighted a very de’il to look at ye; but now your fac’d like a little horse or cow: the poor sow ran home roaring all blood and wanting the nose, which caused Muir-edge to warnthem in before my Lord: so the wives that had their kail eaten, appeared first in the court, complaining against Muir-edge. Indeed, my Lord, Muir-edge is no a good man, when he’s sick an ill neighbour, he keeps black hares and white hares, little wee brown backed hares wi’ white arses, and loose wagging horns, de muckle anes loups o’er the dyke and eats a de kail, and de little anes wi’ de wagging horns, creeps in at our water gush-holes, and does the like, when we cry pisue, they ran awa’ hame to Muir-edge, but I’ll gar my colly hand ’em by the fit, and I’ll hand ’em by the horn, an pu’ a’ de hair aff ’em, and send ’em hame wanting the skin, as he did wi’ Sowen Tammy’s wi’ Sandy, for codding o’ his pease, he took aff de poor laddies coat, a sae did he e’en.
A well then, said my Lord, what do you say, but call in Wise Willy.
In he comes, A well my Lord, I shall suppose an ye were a sow, and me sitting d——g, and you to bite my arse, sudna I tak amends o’ you for that? Od my Lord, ye wadna hae sic a bit out o’ your arse for twenty merks, ye maun just gar Muir-edge gie ten merks to buy a plaister to heal the poor bit wean’s arse again. Well said, Willy, says my Lord, but who puts on the sow’s nose again? A figs my lord, said Willy, she’s honester-like wanting it, and she’ll bite nae mair arses wi’t, and gin ye had hane a nose, my Lord, as lang as the sow had, ye’d been obliged to ony body it wad cut a piece aft.
A gentleman coming past near their town, asked one of their wives where their college stood, said she, Give me a shilling, and I’ll let you see both sides o’t, he gives her a shilling, thinking to see some curious sight, now there’s one side of your shilling and there’s the other, and ’tis mine now.