Let it neir be said, Adam o' Gordon
Was daunted by a dame.”

But when the lady saw the fire
Cum flaming owre her heid,

She weep'd, and kist her children twain;
My bairns we been but deid."

66

The Gordon then his bugil blew,
And said, " Awa, awa!
Sen Towie House is a' in a flame,
I hald it time to gae."

O then bespied her ain deir lord,
As he cam owre the lee;
He saw his castle in a blaze
Sae far as he culd see.

Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave,
And a' his heart was wae;
"Put on, put on, my wichty men,
Sae fast as ye can gae.

"Put on, put on, my wichty men,
Sae fast as ye can drie :
He that is hindmost o' the thrang
Sall neir get gude o' me."

Than sum they rode, and sum they ran, Fu' fast out-owre the bent,

But eir the formost could win up

Baith lady and babes were brent.

He wrang his hands, he rent his hair,
And wept in teynfu' mude:

"Ah traitors, for this cruel deid

Ye sall weep teirs o' bluid!"

And after the Gordon he has gane,
Sae fast as he micht drie :

And sune in his foul hartis bluid
He has wrekin his deir ladie.

THE WIFE OF AUCHTERMUCHTY.

MOFFAT.

IN Auchtermuchty dwelt a man,
An husband, as I heard it tald,
Quha weil could tipple out a can,
And nowther luvit hungir nor cauld.
Till anes it fell upon a day,

He yokit his plewch upon the plain; But schort the storm wald let him stay, Sair blew the day with wind and rain.

He lows'd the plewch at the land's end,
And draife his owsen hame at e'en ;
Quhen he came in he blinket ben,
And saw his wyfe baith dry and clene,
Set beikand by a fyre full bauld,
Suppand fat sowp, as I heard say:
The man being weary, wet, and cauld,
Betwein thir twa it was nae play.

Quod he, quhair is my horses' corn,
My owsen has nae hay nor strae,
Dame, ye maun to the plewch the morn,
I sall be hussy gif I may.

The seid-time proves cauld and bad,
And ze sit warm, nae trouble see;

The morn ze sall gae with the lad,

And syne zeil ken what drinkers drie.

Gudeman, quod scho, content am I,
To tak the plewch my day about,
Sae ye rule weil the kaves and ky,
And a' the house baith in and out:
And now sen ze haif made the law,
Then gyde all richt, and do not break
They sicker rade that neir did faw,
Therefore let naithing be neglect.

But sen ye will hussyskep ken,

First ye maun sift and syne sall kned; And aye as ze gang butt and ben,

Luke that the bairns are in the bed :

And lay a saft wysp to the kiln,

We haif a dear farm on our heid;

And aye as ze gang furth and in,
Keip weil the gaislings frae the gled.

The wyfe was up richt late at e'en,
(I pray luck give her ill to fair),
Scho kirn'd the kirn, and skumt it clene,
Left the gudeman but bledoch bair:
Then in the morning up scho gat;
And on hir heart laid hir disjune,
And pat as meikle in hir lap

;

As micht haif ser'd them baith at nune.

Says, Jok, be thou maister of wark,
And thou sall haud, and I sall ka,
I'se promise thee a gude new sark,
Either of round claith or of sma.
Scho lowst the ousen aught or nyne,
And hynt a gad-staff in her hand:
Up the gudeman raise after syne,

And saw the wyfe had done command.

He draif the gaislings forth to feid,
There was but sevensum of them a',
And by there comes the greidy gled,

And lickt up five, left him but twa:
Then out he ran in a' his mane,

How sune he hard the gaislings cry; But then or he cam in again,

The kaves brak lowse, and suckt the ky.

The kaves and ky met in the loan,
The man ran with a rung to red;
Then by cam an illwilly roan,

And brodit his buttocks till they bled: Syne up he tuke a rok of tow,

And he sat down to sey the spinning; He loutit doun owre neir the low

Quod he, this wark has ill beginning.

The leam up thro' the lum did flow,
The sute tuke fyre, it fleyed him then,
Sum lumps did fa' and burn his pow;
I wat he was a dirty man.
Zit he gat water in a pan,

Quherwith he sloken'd out the fyre;
To soup the house he syne began,
To haud all richt was his desyre.

Hyne to the kirn then did he stoure,
And jumblit at it till he swat,
Quhen he had rumblit a full lang hour,
The sorrow crap o' butter he gat:
Albeit nae butter he could get,

Zit he was cummert with the kirn,
And syne he het the milk sae het,

That deil a spark of it wad zyrne.

Then ben their cam a greidy sow,
I trow he cund hir little thank;
For in scho shot hir meikle mow,

And aye scho winkit, and aye scho drank. He tuke the kirnstaff be the schank, And thocht to reik the sow a rout, The twa left gaislings gat a clankThat straik dang baith their harns out.

Then he bure kendlin to the kill,
But scho start all up in a low,
Quhateir he heard, quhateir he saw,

He kendna now what next to do.
Then he gaed to tak up the bairns,

Thocht to have fund them fair and clene; The first that he gat in his arms,

The first it smelt sae sappylie,

To touch the lave he didna grein: The deil cut aff their hands, quoth he, That cram'd zour kytes sae strute zestrein. He trail'd the foul sheits down the gate, Thocht to haif wash'd them on a stane; The burn, now risen grit of spait, Awa frae him the sheits has tane.

Then up he gat on a know-heid,

On hir to cry, on hir to schout; Scho hard him, and scho hard him not, But stoutly steir'd the stots about. Scho draiff the day unto the nicht,

Scho lowst the plewch, and syne cam hame; Scho fand all wrang that sould bene richtI trow the man thocht meikle schame.