# The Exploits of Wise Willie (c. 1800)

THE
EXPLOITS
OF
Wiſe Willie
AND
Witty Eppie, the Ale-Wife,
OF
BUCKHAVEN.
WITH
A Description of their College and Coat
of Arms, Long Sandy and Rolicoughing Jenny's Wedding,
&c. &c. &c.
Entered according to Order.
The
History
of
Wise Willie and Witty Eppie,
The Ale-Wife.
——ooooooo—ooooooo——
Part I.
Amongst ſeveral ancient old records, this Bucky is not mentioned. There was a fest called Buccaneers, who were Pirates, (that is to ſay, Sea robbers); but ſtrict ſearch being made for theſe ſea-robbers, they were diſperſed.—What of them eſcaped in the ſouthern climate, are ſaid to ſhelter at or near Berwick on Tweed. Having differed among themſelves, a ſmart battle enſued, after which they divided; and, it is ſaid, the party who gained this Bucky battle, fearing the Engliſh law would take place they ſet northward, and took up their reſidence at Bucky-haven, ſo called, not only on account of the great quantities of buckies that are found in and about the place, but on account of the battle they had with their neighbours at Berwik, when they divided, which they called bucking one another, but now named boxing or fighting. Another party of ​thoſe Buckers ſettled in a fiſhing town near Banff, called Bucky, and near the river Spey, which is now a pretty large ſea-town. But among all the ſea-towns in Scotland, the fiſhers ſtill retain a language quite different from the people in the country, and always they ſhift the letter H, and uſe O inſtead thereof, which no country- people in Scotland do but themſelves. There is a corruption of ſpeech in every country over all Britain, and likewiſe they uſe different tones and ways of pronouncing words from others; even ſome in the ſouth of Scotland can hardly be underſtood by thoſe in the north, tho' both pretend to ſpeak good Engliſh, and have a liberal part of education: But ſince learning is now ſo eaſy to be obtained, ignorance and corruption of ſpeech are greatly decreaſed:
In the county of Fife, on the ſea-coaſt, there ſtands a little town, inhabited by few but fiſhers, called Backy-harbour, becauſe of ſea-buckies and ſhells to be found ſo plenty on the rocks about that place. There is little mention made of this town by, Hiſtorians, to know its original extraction and antiquities, but in their own Burges. Ticket, which was partly perfect truth, but more of it by way of lampoon. This Ticket was dated the two-and-thirtieth day of the month of Julius Cæfar Their Coat of Arms was two hands gripping each other over a Scate's rumple. Their Oath was, “I wiſh that de De'il may tak me, an I binna' an honeſt man to you, an ​ye binna de like to me." An article of good neighbourhood they had, whoever was firſt up in a good morning was to raiſe all the reſt to go to ſea; but if a very bad morning, piſs and go to bed again till break of day, then raiſe Wife Willy, who could judge of the weather by the blawing of the wind—Their freedoms were, To take all ſorts of fiſh contained in their Tickets, viz Lobſters, partons, pedlies, ſpout-fiſh, ſea-cats, ſea-dogs, flucks, piles, dick-pedocks, and p—fiſh.
Again, theſe people are ſaid to have deſcended from one Tom and his two ſons, who were fiſhers on the coaſt of Norway, who, in a violent ſtorm, were blown river and got aſhore at Buck-harbour, where they ſettled; and the whole of his children were called Thom-ſons, and ſoon become a little town by themſelves as few of any other name dwelt among them. This is a traditional ſtory, handed down from one generation to another.—They kept but little communication with country. people about them, for a farmer, in thoſe days, thought his daughter call away, if the married one of the fiſhers in Bucky. harbour; and, on the other hand, Witty Eppie, the ale wife, wada ſworn, Bego, laddie, I was rather ſee my boat an a' my three ſons dadet againſt the Baſs, or I ſaw ony ane o' them married to a muck-a-byre's daughter; a whin uſeleſs tappies, it can do naething but rive at a tow rick, and cut a corn; they can neither bait a hook nor rade a line, houk ſand-eels, nor gather pirriwinkels.
​Now, Wiſe Willie and Witty Eppie the ale wife, lived there about a hundred years ago: Eppie's chamber was their College and Court-houſe, where they decided controverſies, and explained their wonders; for the houſe was like a little kirk, had four windows and a gayle door the wives got leave to flyte their fill, but fighting was prohibited, as Eppie ſaid, "Up-hands was fair play. Their fines was a pint o' ale, and Eppie fale'd it at a plack the pint. They had neither miniſter nor magiſtrate, nor yet a burley-bailie, to brag them wi' his Tolbooth. The Lord o' the Manor decided all diſputable points, and Wiſe Willie and Witty Eppie, the ale wife, were the rulers of the town.
Now, Eppie had a daughter, ſhe ca'd her Lingle-tail'd Nancy, becauſe of her feckleſs growth; her waiſt was like a twitter, had nae curpen for a creel, being Edinburgh-bred, and brought up wi' her Loudin aunty, was learned to read and few, made coarſe claiths, and callicoe mancoes; there was nae a ſcholar in the town but herſel, ſhe read the Bible, and the book of kirk fangs was newly come in faſhion. Willy and Eppie tell'd them ay what it meant, and ſaid a' the letters in it was litted by my Lord, for they low him hae a feather that he dipped in black water, and made crooked ſcores, juſt like the ſame; and then he ſpoke o'er again, and it tell'd him what to ſay.
​1. It happened on a day, that two of their wives, near the town, found a horſe-ſhoe, and thought it home, and ſent for Willie to ſee what it was: Willie comes and looks at it; Indeed, en' Willie, it's a thing and holes in't! I kent, co' they, he was get a name till't. A ho! co' Willie, whar did ye find it? Aneath my Lord's ain houſe, Willie. Adeed, ſaid Willie, it's the auld moon, I ken by the holes in't, for nailing it to the lift; but I winder it ſhe fell in Fife, for the laſt time it. I ſaw her, ſhe was hinging on her back aboon Edinburgh. A-hech, co' Willie, we'll ſet her upon the higheſt houſe in the town, and we'll hae moon-light o' our ain a' the days o the year. The whole town ran to ſee the moon! Hout-tout, ſaid Witty Eppie, ye're but a' fools thegither; it's but ane o' the things it my Lord's mare wears upo her lufe.
2. At another time one of the wives found a hare with its legs broken, lying among her kail in the yard: She not knowing what it was, called out to her neighbours to ſee it. Some ſaid it was a Gentleman's cat, or my Lady's lap-dog, or a ſheep's young kitten, becauſe it had faſt horns. Na, na, cried Wiſe Willie, it's ane o'the maukins it gentlemen's dogs worries— What will we do wi't? Staith, co' they all, we'll ſing the woo' aff, and make fiſh and ſauce a't to my Tammie's paarich. Na, na, ſaid Witty Eppie, better gie't to my Lord, an' he'll ſtap an iron ſtick through the guts a't, an' gar's ​rin round a fore the fire till it be roaſted. Na, na, ſaid Wiſe Willie, we'll no do that indeed; for my Lord wad mak us a' dogs, an' gir us rid through the country ſeekin maukins for him.
3. It happened in a dark winter morning, that two of their wives were going in Dyſart to ſell their fiſh; and on the road ſide there happened to be ſome tinker's aſs tathered.—The poor aſs ſeeing the two wives coming with their creels, thought it was the tinkers coming to flit or relieve him, fell a crying; the two wives threw their fiſh away, and run home like mad perſons, crying they had ſean the de'il, ay the very horned de'il, and that he ſpoke to them. but they did na ken what he ſaid, for it was words than a highlandman's; the whole town was in an uproar; ſome would go with picks and ſpades, and hagg him in pieces; others wad go and catch him in a ſtrong net, and then they could either hang or drown them. Na, na, co' Wiſe Willie, we mauna caſt out wi' him at the firſt, as he's gotten the twa burdens o' fiſh, he'll e'en gang his wa' an' no faſh us nae mair; he is o'er ſouple to be catch'd in a net; a' your pith will neither hang him nor drown him, and the kintry he comes frae, is a' het coals, ha'd never burn: We'll gae to him in a civil manner, and ſee what he wants. Get out Witty Eppie, the ale wife, and Lingle rail'd Nancy, wi' the Bible and Pſalm-Book. So aff they came in a crowd, either to kill the de'il, or catch him ​alive: And as they came near the place, the aſs fell a-crying, which cauſed many of them to faint and run back. Na, na, co' Willie, that's nae the de'il's words at a', it's my Lord's trumpeter touting on his braſs whiſtle. Willie ventured till he ſaw the aſs's twa lugs, Now, cried Willie back to the reſt, come forward an' had him faſt! I ſee his twa horns; hech, ſirs, he has a white beard like an auld beggar man! So they incloſed the poor aſs on all ſides, thinking it was the de'il; but when Wiſe Willie ſaw he had nae cloven feet, he cried out, Scarna lads, this is not the de'il, it's ſome living beaſt; it's neither cow nor horſe. An' what is't then, Willie? Indeed, co' Willie, it's the father o' the maukins, I ken by its lang lugs.
Now, ſome ſay this hiſtory is too ſatirical; but it is according to the knowledge of thoſe times, not to ſay any place by ancther. The old wives will tell you yet of many ſuch ſtories, of the devil appearing to their grandfathers and grandmothers; and dead wives coming back again to viſit their families long after being dead: So this Buckhaven was once noted for droll exploits; but it is now become more known, and a place ſaid to produce the hardieſt watermen, or ſailors, of any town on the Scots coaſt. Yet, many of the old people in it ſtill retain the old tincture of their ancient and uncultivated ſpeech, ſuch as, Be-go Jaddie; they are alſo of a fiery nature, for if you ak any of their wives, where ​their College ſtands, they'll tell you, if your noſe were in their a——, your mouth would be at the door of it.
4. Now, it happened when Wife Willie turned old, he took a great ſwelling in his wame and caſting up his kail, collups, and cauld fiſh, that nothing could ſtand on his ſtomach; and a ſtout ftomach had he, for crabs, heads, and ſcate-broe, or broſe in a bridal morning; yet it fail'd him, and he fell ſick, None could cure him, nor tell what ail'd him till a mountebank ſtage doctor came to Kirkcaldy, that could judge by people's piſs, the trouble of their perſon.—Wiſe Willie hearing of his ſame, piſſed into a bottle, and ſent it away with his daughter.—The bottle being uncorked, his daughter ſpilt it by the way; and to conceal he: flesh in ſo doing, piſſed in it herſelf, and on the goes, till ſhe came to the ſtage-doctor, when the cried out aloud, Sir door, Sir doctor, here is a bottle of my father's waſh, he has a fair guts, and needs na' drite ony, but ſpues a' he eats. It's true I tell you, my dow. The doctor locks at it, then ſays, It's not your father's, ſurely it's your mother's. The de'ils itha man, ſaid he, divna I ken my father frae my mither. Then, ſaid he, he is with child. The de'il's itha man, co' ſhe, for my mither bare a' de bairns before, dat's no true, ſir: figs ye're a great liar. Hame ſhe comes, and tell'd Willie, her father, that the doctor ſaid he was wi' bairn. O waes me, co' ​Willie, for I hae a muckle wame, an' I fear it's o'er true. O plague on you, Janet! for ye're the father o't, an' I'm ſure to die in bearing o't. Witty Eppie was ſent for, as he was a houdie; an' ſhe ſand a' Willie's wame, to be ſure about it. Indeed, co' Eppie, ye're the firſt man e'er I ſaw wi' bairn before, an' how you'll bear it I dinna ken, ye ha'e a wally wame, well I wat; but how men bear bairns I dinna ken: But I would drink ſalt ſea-water, and drown it in my guts; for if men get ance the gate o' bearing weans themſelves, they'll ſeek nas mair wives. So Willie drank ſea-water till his guts was like to rive, and out he got to eaſe himſelf in the kail-yard, and with the terrible noiſe of his farting, up ſtarts a maukin behind him, who thought it was ſhot: Willie ſeeing her jump o'er the dike, thought it was a child brought forth, and cries out, Come back, my dear, and be chriſtened, and din e rin to the hills to be a Pagan. So Willie grew better every day thereafter, being brought to bed in the kail-yard; but his daughter was brought to bed ſome months after, which was the cauſe of the doctor's miſtake.
Part II.
1. Now, Wiſe Willie had a daughter, called Rolling Coughing Jenny, becauſe ſhe ſpake thick, sax words at three times, ha'ſ ſenſe, ha'f nonſenſe, as her own records will bear witneſs. She being wi' child, was delivered of a bonny laſſie; and all the wives in the town cried out, Be-go, laddie, it's juſt like its ain father, Lang Sandy Taſon, (or Thomſon), we ken be its noſe; for Sandy had a great muckle red noſe, like a lobſter's tie, bowed at the point like a hawk's neb; and Sandy himſel ſaid, that it was ſurely his, or ſome other body's; but he had uſed a' his birr at the getting o't, to try his abilities, being the first time e'er he was at ſic a buſineſs before; and when he had done a' that man cou'd do at it, he ſaid it was nonſenſe; an' ſhame fa' him, but he was rather row his boat round the Baſs an' back again, or he'd do the like again: for Wiſe Willie gade wude at the wean, an' ſaid it had mair ill nature in't, than the auldeſt wife about the town; for it piſſed the bed, and ſhit the bed, kirl'd like a wild cat, and kept hin frae his night's reſt; and the auld hages about the town ca'd him Sandy, the bairn's daddy; and a' the young gillie-gauky laſſies held out their fingers, and cried, Tie bie, his, Sandy, the kirk will kide your hips for that: An' after a', the blear-ey'd bell-man ​came bladdering about the buttock-meal, ſummoned him and her before the haly band, a court that was held in the kirk on Saturday morning; and all the herd laddies round about, cried, Ay, ay, Sandy, pay the bull-filler, or we'll cut the cow's tail awa'. So poor Sandy ſuffered ſadly in the fleſh, beſides the penalty and kirk-penance.
2. But Wiſe Willie had pity on them, and gade wi' them to the Kirk-court, what learned folk call the Seſſion. Jenny was firſt called upon, and in the goes, where a' the haly band was convened, elders and younger deacons, and dog payers keeping the door, the cankardeſt carls shit could be gotten between Dyſart and Dubyſide white heads and balk heads ſitting wantin' bonnets, wi' their white-headed ſtaves and hodden-grey jockey-coats about them.
Meſs John ſays, Come away Jannet, we're waiting on you here.
Mn. Now Jannet, where was this child gotten? You muſt tell us plainly.
Jan. A deed ſir, it was gotten among the black ſtanes, at the cheek o'the crab holes.
Meſs John ftares at her, not knowing the place, but ſome of the elders did. Then ſaid he, O Jannet but the devil was buſy with you at that time.
Jan. A by my ſegs, ſir. that's a great lie ye're tellin' now, for the de'il was nae there, ​that I ſaw, nor ony body elſe, to bid us do ae thing or anither; we lo'ed ither unco well for alang time before that, an' ſyne we tell’d ither, an' 'greed to marry ither, like honeſt folk; then might na we learn to do the thing married folk do, without the de'il helping us.
Whiſht, whiſht, cried they, ye ſhould be ſcourg'd, fauſe loon quein it thou is, ye'er ſpeaking nonſenſe.
Jan. De de'il's i' the carles, for you and your miniſters is liars, when ye ſay it is de de'il it was helping Sandy and me to get de bairn.
Come, come, ſaid they, pay down the Kirkdues, and come back to the ſtool the morn; the price is four pund, and a groat to the bell man.
Jan. The auld thief ſpeed the darth o't ſir, far leſs might fair you and your bell-man baith, O but this be a warld indeed, when poor honeſt folks maun pay for making uſe o' their own a-: Ye miſca' the poor de'il a-hint his back, an' gi’es him de wyte o'a' de ill in de kintry, baſtard bairns, and every thing; an'if it be fae as ye ſay, ye may thank de de'il for that four pund and a groat I ha'e gi'en ye; that gars your pot play brown, an' gets you jockey-coats, an' purl-handed farks, an' white-headed ſtaves, when my father's pot wallops up rough bear and blue water.
The woman is mad, ſaid they, for this money is all given to the poor of the pariſh ​Jan. The poor o' the pariſh! ſaid ſhe; fint a heit ye gi'e them but wee pickles o' peaſe meal, didna I fee't in their pocks? and the miſter's wife gaes naething ava to unco beggars, but bids them gang hame to their ain pariſhes; and yet ye'll tak the purſe frae poor folks for naething but playing the loon a wee or they be married, an' fyne sock them up to be looked on an' laugh'd at by every body: a de'il ſpeed you an' your juſtice, ſir. Hute, tute, ye're a' coming on me like a wheen colly dogs hunting awa' a poor ragget chapman frae the door. So out ſhe goes curſing and greeting.—Sandy is next called upon, and in he goes.
Min. Now, Sanders, you muſt tell us how this child was gotten?
San. A now, Meſs John, ſir, ye hae bairns o' your ain, how did you get them? But yours are a' laddies, and mine is but a laſſie; if you'd tell me how you got your laddies, I'll tell you how I got my laſſie, an' than we'll be baith alike good o' the buſineſs.
The Miniſter locks at him, and ſays, Hute, tute, Sanders, 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 uncleannefs than ſpeaking ſo to me.
San. Well, here's your ſiſter, ſir, I hae gotten but poor penny-worth: for't, an' ye tell me to ​repent for't; what-the auld thief needs I repent when I'm gaun to marry the woman, an' than I hae to do't o'er again every day, or there'll be nae peace in the houſe; figs 'it's nonſenſe to pay filler, repent, an' do't again too, a fine advice indeed, maſter Miniſter! an' that's the way the like o' live.
Wiſe Willie. Now, ſir, an' you maſter elders, ye maunna put them on the black creepy till they be married, they've ſuffered enough at ae time.
A-weel, a-weel, ſaid they, but they muſt marry very ſoon.
I true, ſays Sandy, ye'll be wanting mair clink; foul hae't ye do for naething here.
Hame comes 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, ſays his mither, Kirk-fouk are ay greedy; ye hue been wi' the Miniſter a' day; ye'd get a guid lang grace, he might a gien ye meat too: filthy dog that thou is, thou has the bulk o' a little pye o' my leaven in your guts; it wad a ſaird ane's dinner, fae wad it e'en, but a ye keep a reekin' houſe an a rocking cradle three eleven years, as I hae done, leſs o' that will ſerve you yet, baggity beaſt itu is, mair it I bore thee cow, a hear ye that my dow.
​The next exploit was an action at law, againſt the good-man of Muiredge, a farmer who lived near by, that kept ſheep and ſwine. His ſheep came down and broke their yards, and are up their kail; the wild hares they thought belonged to the ſame man, as they ran to his houſe when they were hun'ed. The ſwine came very often in about their houſes, ſeeking fiſh guts and any thing they could get: So it happened, when one of the children was fitting eaſing itſelf, that one of the ſwine tumbled it over, and bit a piece out of its backſide! The whole town roſe in an uproar againſt poor grunkie, as they called her, and caught her, and takes her before Wiſe Willie. Willie took an ax and cut two or three inches off her long noſe. Now, ſays Wille, I trow I hae made thee ſomething like another beaſt; thou had fic a lang mouth before, it wad a frighted a very de'il to look at ye, but now ye're fac'd like a little horſe or cow. The poor ſow ran home roaring, all blood, and wanting the noſe; which cauſed Muiredge to warn them in before my Lord. So the wives that had their kail eaten appeared firſt in the Court, complaining againſt Muiredge. Indeed, my Lord, ſaid they, Muiredge is no a good man, when he is fic an ill neighbour; he keeps black hares an white haces, little wee brown backed hares wi' white arſes, an looſe, wagging horns; they creep in at our water guſh holes an does the like: When we cry, Puffie, puſſie, they rin hame to Muiredge: ​But I'll gar my colly had them by the fit, an I'll had them by the horn, an pu' the hair aff them, an ſend'em hame wanting the ſkin, as he did wi' Sowen Tammie's wee Sandy, for codin o' his peaſe, he took aff the poor laddie's coat, an fae did he e'en. And Willie ſaid, If ye were a ſow, my Lord, an me fitting driting, an you to bite my arſe; ſudna I hae amends o' you for that? Od, my Lord, ye wadna hae a bit out o' your arſe for twenty marks: Ye maun e'en gar Muiredge gie ten marks to buy a plaſter, to heal the poor bit wean's arſe again.
Well ſaid; Willie, ſays my Lord; but who puts on the ſow's noſe again?
A ſegs, my Lord, ſaid Willie, ſhe's honeſter like wantin it, an Me'll bite nae mae arſes wi't: An ye had hane a noſe, my Lord, as lang as the ſow bad, ye'd been obliged to ony body it wad cut a piece aſ't.
4. A Gentleman coming poſt near their town, aſked one of their wives where their College ſtood? Said ſhe, Gie me a ſhilling, an I'll let you ſee baith ſides o't. He gives her the ſhilling, thinking to ſee ſomething curious. Now, ſays ſhe, there's the one ſide of your ſhilling, and there's the other; ſo it's mine now.
Now, Wiſe Willie being greatly admired for his juſt judgment in cutting off the ſort noſe, my Lord, in a mocking manner, made him burly bailie of Buck haven; Lang Sandy was Provoſt, ​and John Thrums the weaver was dean of guild, But Witty Eppie had ay the caſting vote in a their courts and controverſies.
Part III.
1. There happened one day a running horſe to be ſtanding at one of their doors, and a child going about, the horſe tramped upon the child's foot, which cauſed the poor child to cry: The mother came running in a paſſion, crying, A wae be to you for a horſe, filthy barbarian brute it t'ou is, ſetting your muckle iron luſe on my bairn's wee fittie. Od, ſtir, I'll rive the hair out o' your head, gripping the horſe by the mane and the twa lugs, cuffing his chaſts, as he had been her fellow-creature. crying, Bego-laddie, I'll gar you as good, I'll tak you afore Wiſe Willie the baillie, an he'll cut aff your hand wi'de iron luſe, an ye'll be cripple, an gang thro' the kintry in a barrow, or ou twa ſhule ſtaves, like Rab the randy, an a meal pock about your neck.——Her neighbour wife hearing an ſeeing what paſt, cries, O you fool taupy, what gars you ſpeak that gate till a horſe? He diſna ken ae word that ye're ſayin till him.
2 When Lang Sandy and Rolicoughing Jenny were married, their wedding took up three days and two rights. My Lord, and my ​Lady, with ſeveral other ladies and gentlemen, attended for diverſions like. The piper of Kirkcaldy and the fidler of Kinghorn were both bidden by Wife Willie, the bride's father; and if any more came to play unbidden, Willie ſwore they ſhould ſit unfair’d, for theſe twa fud get a' de filler dat was to be gi'en or win. That day the dinner and dorter meat fat in Eppie's College, and the dancing food in twa rings before the door; and the firſt day, the dunting and dangling of their heels dang down the ſeadyke; ſome humbled in, and ſome held by the ſtones; the fidler fell in o'er the lugs, and druckit a' his fidle, the ftrings gaed out o' order, and the tripes turn'd faſt like pudding ſkins; ſo the piper had to do for a', and the fidler had naething to do but fup kail and pick banes wi' the reſt of them. Now, my Lord's cook was to order the kettle, but lang Pate o' the Pans play'd a ſad prat, by caſting twa pound of candle among the kail, which made them ſo ſat that ſome could nor ſup them, and the candle wicks came ay into their cutties, like fouters' lingles in the diſhes, but some, wi' ſtronger ſtomachs, ſtripped then through their teeth, lke rats' tails, and said, mony ane wad be blyth o' fic a ſtring to tie up their hose in a pinch. My Lord and the gentry, Mess John and the Clerk, were all placed at the head of the table, oppoſite the bride, but would sup none of the candle kail. Wise Willie and the bridegroom served the table, and cried, Sup, an' a sorrow to ye, for I ne'er liked four ​kail about my house. When the flesh came; the bride got a ram's rumple to pick : She taks it up and wags it at my Lord, saying: Ti-hie, my Lord, what an a piece is this? O, said my Lord, that's the tail piece, it belongs to you, bride. It's no mine, I never had the like o't; it's a fish-tail, see as it wags, but it's a bit o't; some dead beast. O yes, said he, bride, you have hit it now; but how come you to eat with your gloves on? Indeed, my Lord, there's a reason for dat too; I hae scabbed hands.- O, said he, I cannot, believe you She pulled off a part of the glove, and ſhewed him. O yes, said he, I see it is so. Acha, said ſhe, but I will ye saw my a-e, my Lord, it's a' in ae hotter. O fy, Willian, said my Lod, I wonder you don't teach your daughter to ſpeak to speak with more modeſty. Be my sae, my Lord, ye may as well kiss her a-e. I find so, said my Lord, but it is for want of a teacher.
The next diſh that was set on the table, was roaſted hens; and the bride's portion being laid on her plate, ſhe says to my Lord, Will ye let me dip my fowl a-e, amang your sauce?- Upon my word said my Lord, I will not, if it be as you tell me Hute, my Lord, said the bride, it's nae my a-e, it's bat de hen's I mean.- O but, said he, it's the faſhion for every one to eat off their own trencher, you may get more sauce, I can manage my own myſelf. Indeed, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, I thought you like me better ​nor ony ither body. True, ſaid he, but I like you ſhould not ſpeak ill of my Lady, for the hears myſelf beſt. Deed, my Lord, I think ye're the beſt body about the houſe, for your Lady's but a ſtinking pridefu' jade, the thinks that we ſud mak de fiſh an de haddies a'alke; be-go, my Lord, ſhe thinks we can ſhape them as de hen does their eggs wi' their a—s. O bride, ſays he, you ſhould not ſpeak ill of my Lady, for ſhe hears you very well. O deed, my Lord, I had nae mind o dat. Well then, ſaid he, drink to me, or them you like beſt. Then, ſays ſhe, there's to ye a' de gidder, heels o'er head. Very well, ſaid, ſays my Lord, that's good ſenſe.
Dinner being over, my Lord deſired the bride to dance. Indeed, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, I canna dance ony, but I'll gar my wame wallop fornent yours, an than we'll rin round about as faſt's we can. Very well bride, ſaid he, that will juſt do; we all neither kiſs nor ſhake hands, but I'll bow to thee, and ye'll back to me, ſo we'll have done.—So, after the dinner and dancing, my Lord exhorted the bride to be a good neighbour, and 'gree with every body round about. I wat weel, my Lord, ſaid the, ye ken I ne'er caſt cut wi' oy body but lang Pate o' the Pans, an ke bad a' de wite o't; he began wi' heiteng an jeering me about Sandy, de black ſtanes an crab holes where de wean was gotten; an than it turned to a hubbub an a cullaſhangy, an or e'er ye cou'd kiſs'd my a—e, ​my Lord, we was aboon ither on the muſſel midden. I trow I tell'd him o' Randy Rab, his uncle, his ain titty, it ſteal'd de ſarks an drank de filler, an how his nither fal'd maucky mutton, an mair than a' that, fae did I e'en, my Lord.
3. My Lord had a friend, a captain in the army, who came to viſit him; and having heard of the Buckers' ſayings and exploits, was deſirous to ſee them My Lord; to put them in a fright, ſent his ſervant to order them, both men and women, to come up before his gate tomorrow about kail time; and all that did not come, was to fit and remove out of my Lord's ground directly. This put the whole town in a terrible conſternation! Some ran to Wiſe Willie, to ſee if he cou'd tell what it meant. Willie ſaid, that it was before ſomething; and he ſaid he was ſure death was the worſt o't, come what will. But Witty Eppie ſaid, I ken well what's to come, he's gaun to make de men o's a' fodgers, an the wives dragoons, becauſe they're the beſt fighters: I ken there's ſomething to come on the town, for our Nancy ſaw Maggy's gaiſt the ſtreen, it was buried about four weeks ſince ſyne. A hech, co Willie, that's a ſign the meal is dear in the ither warld, when ſhe comes back to this ane again: We'll tak our dinner afore we gae to my Lord, we'll may be ne'er come back again. So way they went, lamencing, all in a crowd. My Lord and the Captain was looking over the window when they arrived; and the Captain ​cries to them, To the right about. To which they anſwered, bleſs you, my Lord, what is dat man ſayin'? Says my Lord, He bids you turn your faces to Maggy's hill, and your a—es to the ſea; which they did in all haſte. An what will we do now? ſaid Willie. No more, ſaid my Lord, but go all home Willie. O my dow! O my bleſſing come o'er your bonny face, my Lord; I wiſh you may never die, ner yer grow ſick, nor nae body fell you; ye are the beſt man in a' the warld, for we thought a' to be dead men or fodgers, ye're wiſer than a' the witches on the coaſt of Fife, or in a' the warld.
4. There was a cuſtom in Bucky harbour, when they got a hearty drink, that they went down to dance among the boats; and two or three of the oldeſt went into a boat to ſee the reſt dance. And when they admitted a burgher, there was always a dance. One day they admitted gly'd Rob, who was a warlike, and made them all to ſtop their dancing; for which he was carried before Wiſe Willie, to anſwer for that his crime; for which he was baniſhed to the Iſle of May, at the mouth of the Frith of Forth, to carry coals to the Light-Houſe.
The Bucky lads and loſſes, when they go gather-bait, tell ſtrong ſtories about ghoſts, witches, Willie wil the wiſp, and the Kelpy, fairies, maukens, and bogles of all ſorts. They think the ghoſts go all night, like auld horſes, ​for fear of being ſeen, and be made to carry ſcate, fiſh, and dulce. They think Witches are the worſt kind of devils, and make uſe of cats to ride upon, or kill kebbers and beſon-ſhafts; and that they fall over the ſea in cockle ſhells, and bewitches lads and laſſes, ard diſibles bride-grooms. They think Willie and the Wiſp is a fiery Devil, and leads people aff-their road to drown them in the ſea. They think Kelpy is a fly devil, and roars before a loſs at ſea. And they believe that the Fairies lift new born bairns from their mothers; and that none of them are ſafe to lie with their mothers for a night or two after they are born, unleſs the mother get a pair of men's breeches under their head, which ſets the Fairies adriſt. But if they neglect to do this, they ſay the Fairies will carry off the child, and leave an old luck of wood with the mother.
Finis.
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse