# Prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer, the ancient Scotch prophet (1)/Chapter 4

THRUMMY CAP.
A TALE.
In ancient times, far i' the north, A hundred miles ayont the Forth, Upon a stormy winter day, Twa men forgathered on the way; Ane was a sturdy Bardoch chiel, An frae the weather happit weel, Wi' a milled plaiding jockey-coat, And eke he on his head had got. A thrummy cap, baith large and stout, Wi' flaps a hind, as weel's a snout, Whilk buttoned close aneath his chin, To keep the cauld frae getting in: Upon his legs he had gamashes, Whilk sodgers term their spaterdashes; An' on his hands, instead o' glo'es, Large doddy mittens, whilk he'd roose. For warmness, an' an aiken stick, Nae verra lang, but unco thick, Intil his neive—he drave awa', And car'd for neither frost nor snaw. The ither was just the reverse, O claes and courage baith was scarce; Sae in our tale, as we go on, I think we'd ca' him cowardly John. Sae on they gade at a good scow'r, Cause that they saw a gathering shower, Grow verra thick upon the wind, Whilk to their wae they soon did find;
A mighty shower of snaw and drift. As ever dang down frae the lift! Right wild and boisterous Boreas roar'd, Preserve's quoth John we'll baith be smor'd, Our trystic end we'll ne'er make out, Cheer up, says Thrummy, never doubt; But I'm some fly'd we've tint our way, Howe'er at the neist house we'll stay, Until we see gif it grow fair, Gin no, a' night we'll tarry there. Weel, weel, says Johnny, we shall try, Syne they a mansion house did spy. Upon the road, a piece afore, Sae they gaed up into the door, Where Thrummy chappit wi' his stick, Syne to the door came verra quick, A muckle dog, who barked sair, But Thrummy for him didna care: He handled weel his aiken staff. And spite o's teeth he kept him aff, Until the Landlord came to see, And ken what might the matter be; Then verra soon the dog did cease, The Landlord then did spear the case. Quoth Thrummy, Sir, we hae gane weel, We thought we'd ne'er a house get till; We near were smoor'd amo' the drift; An' sure, gudeman, ye'll make a shift, To gie us quarters a' this night, For now we dinna hae the light, Farer to gang tho' it were fair, See gin you ha'e a bed to spare, Whate'er you charge, we sanna grudge, But satisfy ye, ere we budge, To gang awa—and fan 'tis day, We'll pack our all, and tak the way. The Landlord said, o' beds I've nane, Our ain folks they will scarce contain;
But gin ye gang but twa miles forret, Aside the kirk dwalls Robbie Dorret, Wha keeps a change house, sells guid drink, His house you may mak out I think. Quoth Thrummy, that's our far awa, The roads are sae blawn up wi' snaw, To mak it is not in our power; For look ye, there's a gathering shower. Is coming on—you'll let us bide, Tho' we should sit by the fire-side. The Landlord said to him, na, na, I canna let you bide ava, Chap off, for 'tis no worth your while, To bide, when ye hae scrimp twa mile. To gang—sae quickly aff ye'll steer, For faith, I doubt ye'll nae be here. Twa mile! quo' Thrummy, de'il speed me, If frae your house this night I jee; Are we to starve in Christian land? As lang's my stick bides in my hand, An' silver plenty in my pouch, To nane about your house I'll crouch; Landlord, you needna be sae rude, For faith we'll make our quarters good. Come, John, let's in, we'll take a seat, Fat sorrow gars you look sae blate? Sae in he gangs and sets him down: Says he, they're nane about your town, Sail pull me out, till a new-day, As lang's I've siller for to pay. The Landlord said, ye're rather rash, To turn ye out we sauna fash, Since ye're sae positive to bide, But troth yese sit by the fire-side; I tald ye else of beds I've nane, Unoccupied, except bare ane, In it, I fear ye winna lie, For stoutest hearts have aft been shy,
To venture in within the room, After the night begins to gloom; For in it they can ne'er get rest, Tis haunted by a frightful ghaist! Ourselves are terrified a' night, Sae ye may chance to get a sight, Like that which some of our folk saw, Far better till ye gang awa, Or else ye'll maybe rue the day. Guid faith, says John, I'm thinking sae, Better in the neuk to sit, Than fiy'd, gude keep's, out o' our wit; Preserve us ever frae all evil, I wadna like to see the devil: Whisht gowk, quo' Thrummy, haud your peace, That sanna gar me quit this place: To great nor sma' I ne'er did ill, No ghaist, no diel my sert shall spill. I can defy the meikle deil, An' a' his works I wat fu' weel; Fat sorry then maks you sae eery? Fling by your fears come then be cheery, Landlord gin ye'll make up that bed, I promise I'll be very glad, Within the same a' night to lie, If that the room be warm and dry. The Landlord says, ye's get a fire, An' candle too, gin ye desire, Wi beuks to read, and for your bed, I'll orders gi'e to get it made. John says as I'm a Christian man, Who never likes to curse nor ban, Nor steal, nor lie, nor drink, nor whore, I'll never gang within its door, But sit by the fire-side a' night, An' gang awa whene'er 'tis light. Says Thrummy till him wi' a glow'r, Ye cowardly gowk, I'll make ye cower.
Come up the stair alang wi' me, An' I shall caution for you be. Then Johnny faintly gaed consent, An' up stairs to the room they went. Where soon the gat baith fire and light, To haud them hearty a' the night; The Landlord likewise gae them meat. As meikle as the baith could eat; Shew'd them their bed and bade them gang, To it, whene'er they did think lang; And wishing them a gude repose, Straight syne to his ain bed he goes. Our travellers now being left alane, 'Cause that the frost was nippen keen. Cost aff their shoon, an' warm'd their feet, And syne gade to their bed to sleep. But cowardly John wi' fear was quaking, He cou'dna sleep, but still lay wauking, Sae troubled wi' his panic fright— When near the twalt hour o' the night, That Thrummy waken'd and thus spoke; Preserves! quoth he, I am like to choak. Wi' thrist, and I maun ha'e a drink; I will gang down the stair I think, And grapple for the water pail, O for a waught o' cawler ale! Johnny grips to him, an' says na, I winna let you gang awa; Wow will you gang and leave me here, Alane to die wi' perfect fear? Rise and go wi' me then, quoth Thrummy, Ye senseless gude-for-naething bummy, I'm only gaun to seek some water, I will be back just in a clatter. Na, na, says John, I'll rather lie, But as I am likewise something dry, Gif ye can get a jug or cap, Fesh up to me a little drap.
Ay, ay, quoth Thrummy, that I will, AJtho' ye sudna get a gill. Sae down he gaes to fetch a drink, And then he thinks he see a blink, O' light, that shone upo' the floor, Out thro' the key hole o' the door, So setting up the door a jee, VVhatever's there he thinks he'll see; So bauldly o'er the threshold ventures, And in within the door he enters. But, reader, judge of the surprise, When there he saw with wondering eyes, A spacious vault, weel stored wi' cask's, O' reaming ale, and some big flasks, And stride legs o'er a cask of ale, He saw the likeness o' himsel. Just in the dress that he cast aff, A Thrummy cap and aiken staff, Gammashes and the jockey-coat; And in his hand the Ghaist had got. A big four-legged timber bicker, Filled to the brim wi' nappy liquor; Our hero at the spectre star'd, But neither daunted was, nor car'd, But to the Ghaist straight up did step, An' says, dear brother, Thrummy Cap, The warst ye surely dinna drink; Syne took a jug, pou'd out the pail, And filled it up in the same ale, Frae under where the spectre sat, And up the stair wi' it he gat; Took a gude drink, gaed John anither, But never tauld him o' his brither, That he into the cellar saw, Mair than he'd naething seen ava; Right brown and nappy was the beer, Whar did you get it? John did speer. Says Thrummy, sure you ueedna care,
I'll gae and try and get some mair. Sae down the stair again he goes, To get o' drink, anither dose, Being positive to hae some mair: But still hefand the ghaist was there. Now on a butt behind the door: Says he. Ye didna ill before, Dear brother Thrummy, sae I'll try, You ance again, because I'm dry, He fills his jug straight out below, An' up the stair again does go. John marvell'd sair but didna speer, Again, where did he get the beer, For it was stronger than the first, Sae they baith drank till like to burst; Syne did compose themselves to rest, To sleep a while they thought it best. An hour in bed they hadna been, And scarcely weel had closed their een, When just into the neighb'ring cham'er, They heard a dreadful din and clamour, Beneath the bed-claes John did cower, But Thrummy jumped upon the floor, Him by the sark-tail John did haud, Lie still, quoth he, fat, are you mad? Thrummy then gaed a hasty jump, And took John in the ribs a thump, Till on the bed he tumbled down, In little better than a swoon, While Thrummy, fast as he could rin, Set aff to see what made the din. The chamber seemed to him as light, As gif the sun was shining bright; The ghaist was stanin' at the door, In the same dress he had afore; And o'er anent it at the wa', Were ither apparitions twa. Thrummy beheld them for a wee,
But de'il a word as yet spoke he; The spirits seemed to kick a ba', The Ghaist against the ither twa: While close they drave baith back and fore. Atween the chimla and the door. He stops a while and sees the play, Syne rinning up he thus did say: Ane for ane may well compare. But twa for one is rather sair: The play's nae equal, sae I vow. Dear brother Thrummy, I'll help you. Then wi' his feet he kicked the ba', Gard it play stot against the wa': Quick then as lightning frae the sky, The Spectres, with a horrid cry, A' vanished in a clap of thun'er, While Thrummy at the same did won'er. The room was quiet now and dark, And Thrummy stripping in his sark: Glauming the gate back to his bed, Ae thinks he hears a person tread, An' ere he gat without the door, The Ghaist again stood him before, And in his face did staring stand, Wi' a big candle in his hand, Quoth Thrummy, Friend I want to know, What brings you from the shades below? I, in my maker's name, command, You tell your story just aff hand? Fat wad you hae? —— I'll do my best, For you, to let you be at rest, Then says the Ghaist, 'tis thirty years, Since I've been doom'd to wander here; In all that time there has been none, Behav'd so bold as you have done; Say, if you'll do a job for me, Disturbance mair I'll never gie; Say on your tale, quoth Thrummy, I,
To do you justice, sure will try, Then mark me weel, the Ghaist replied, And you shall soon be satisfied; Frae this aback near forty years, I of this place was overseer, When this Laird's father had the land, A' thing was then at my command, Wi' power to do as I thought fit, In ilka cause I chief did sit; The Laird paid great respect to me, But I an ill return did gie: The Title deeds of his estate, Out of the same I did him cheat, And staw them frae where they did lie: Some days before the laird did' die. His son, at that time, was in France, And sae I thought I'd hae a chance. Gif he should never come again, That the Estate would be my ain. But scarcely three bare weeks were past, When death did come and grip me fast, Sae sudden that I hadna power, The charter back for to restore. Soon after that hame came the heir, And syne got up the reefu' rair, What sorrow was come o' the Rights? They sought them several days and nights. But never yet hae they been seen, As I aneath a meikle stane, Did hide them, i' this chamber wa', We'll shewed up in a leather ba', But I was ne'er allowed to rest, Until that I the same confest; But this to do I hadna power, Frae yon time to this verra hour, That I've reveal'd a' to you: And now I'll tell you what to do. Till nae langsyne nae mony kent,
That this same Laird the Rights did want, But now they hae him at the law, An' the neist owk the Laird maun shaw, Afore the Court, the Rights o's land, This puts him at an unco stand, For if he disna shaw them there, O' a' his lands he'll be strip'd bare: Nae hopes has he to save's estate, This makes him sour and unco blate; He canna think whar's Rights may be, And ne'er expects them mair to see, But now my friend, mark what I tell, And ye'll get something to yoursel'; Tak out the stane there in the wa', And there ye'll get the leather ba'. 'Tis just the same that you did see, Whan that you said you wad help me, The rights are skew'd up in its heart; But see you dinna wi' them part, Until the Laird shall pay you down, Just fifty guineas and a crown, Whilk at my death was due to me, This for thy trouble, I'll give thee: And I'll disturb this house nae mair, 'Cause I'll be free from all my care. This Thrummy promised to do, And syne the Ghaist bade him adieu, And vanished with a pleasant sound, Down thro' the laft and thro' the ground. Thrummy gade back syne till his bed, And cowardly John was verra glad, That he his neighbour saw once mair, For of his life he did despair. Wow man, quo' John, whar hae you been, Come tell me a' fat ye hae seen? Na. bide, says Thrummy, till day light, And syne I'll tell you hale and right. Sae baith lay still and took a nap,
Until the ninth hour it id chap; Thrummy syne raise; put on his claes. And to the cham'er quick he gaes, Taks out the stane into the wa', And soon he found the leather ba; Took out the Rights, replaced the stane, Ere John did ken whar he had been: Then baith came stappin' down the stair, The morning now was calm and fair. Weel, says the laird, my trusty frien', Hae ye ought in your cham'er seen? Quoth Thrummy, Sir, I naething saw, That did me ony ill ava. Weel, quoth the laird ye now may gang, Ye ken the day's nae verra lang: In the meantime it's calm and clear, Ye lose your time in biding here. Quoth Thrummy, Sir, mind what I tell, I've mair right here than you yoursel': Sae till I like I here shall bide. The Laird at this began to chide; Says he my friend you're turning rude. For here I, just before you a', The Rights o' this estate can shaw, And this is mair than you can do. What! quo' the Laird, can that be true! 'Tis true, quoth Thrummy, look and see, D'ye think that I would tell a lie. The parchment from his pouch then drew, And down upon the table threw, The Laird at this up to him ran, And cryed where did get them man? Syne Thrummy tauld him all the tale, As I've tauld you, baith clear and hale. The Laird at this was fidging fain, That he had got his rights again; And fifty guineas down did tell, Besides a present frae himsel'.
Thrummy him thanked, and syne his goud, intil a muckle purse he stowed, An' cramed it in his oxter pouch, And syne sought out his aiken crutch: Said fare-ye-weel, I maun awa, An' see gin I get through the snaw. Weel, fare-ye-weel replied the laird, How comes it that ye ha'na shared, Or gi'en your nei'bour o' the money? Na, by my saul, I, Sir quo' Thrummy, When I the siller, Sir, did win, To had done this wad been a sin. For he cower'd, trembling in the bed, While I it was the Ghaist that laid, And sae my tale I here do end, I hope no one it will offend; My muse will no' assist me langer, The dorty jade sometimes does lang'or. I thought her ance a gay smart lass But now she's come to sic a pass, That a' my cudgelling and weeping, Will hardly wake her out o' sleeping, To plague her mair I winna try, But dight my pen and lay it by.
FINIS.
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