The muckle spate o' 'twenty-nine

^

Grant

Muckle Spate o' 'Twenty-nine

iri:

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

IN MEMORY OF

iMiSHt

^liiUiil^; ■ I

§0

James J, McBride

PRESENTED BY

Margaret McBride

The Bon^Accord Booklets

:: CI)e ::

0' 'CtDent|) nine

Sy DAVID GRANT

WILLIAM SMITH & SONS ;: ABERDEEN

cfio. 1

Trice 6d. net

i

The "Ron -Accord
"Booklets

No. I

PR
4128

ec\2

PUBLISHERS' NOTE

IT is our intention, should sufificient encouragement
be given to the venture, to issue from time to time
under the general title of The 'Bon-t.^ccord Booklets^
choice selections in verse and prose, vernacular and
other, from the local literature of the North-East of
Scotland. Many items of more than passing interest
and worth, relating to the life, customs, and history
of our home-folk, lie buried and out of ken (except
to the specialist) in magazines, newspapers, broad-
sheets, scarce volumes, and contemporary manuscripts,
which are well worth rescuing for present-day readers.
This we mean to do in a series of booklets, varying
in price according to size, in style similar to the
present one, and admitting of their being gathered
together in a volume for further preservation. No
liberties will be taken with any text we reprint,
editing being strictly limited to biographical notes
on authors, where such can be had ; and, where
required, a glossary of words in the vernacular, now
out of or passing out of use, will also be given.

To the family of the late David Grant we are
indebted for liberty to give, as the first of the series
of The "Bon-Accord Booklets^ his " Muckle Spate o'
'Twenty-nine," which is undoubtedly one of the
masterpieces of our northern vernacular lore.

i 045224

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

DAVID GRANT, the author of "The Muckle
Spate o' 'Twenty-nine," was born at Affrusk, Ban-
chory, in 1823, and was reared in Strachan, where his
father was a farmer. While at school and afterwards,
he was a diligent student, and ultimately prepared
himself for the University. He entered Marischal
College (1850-51), and studied there for two sessions.
He then turned to teaching, and was successively
schoolmaster at Lhanbryd ; Canisbay ; Glasgow 5
the Grammar School, Oundle, Northamptonshire ;
Ecclesall College and Springvale College, Sheffield
He was for some time editor of The Sheffield Post,
and his pen in many ways was ever busy with prose
and verse. His health breaking down in 1883, he
removed to Edinburgh, where he died 22nd April,
1 886. While on his deathbed a Civil List allowance
of ;^5o was conferred on him in recognition of liis
literary work. His principal publications are : —

"The Hermit of Powis," Aberdeen, 1S61.
"Handbook of the Great North Railway," 1862.
"Metrical Tales," Sheffield, 18S0.

"Lays and Legends of the North," Edinburgh, 1884.
"The Chronicles of Keckleton," Edinburgh, 1888.

"The Muckle Spate "was the leading poem in
the author's "Lays and Legends of the North."
Many of his songs were set to music by skilled
musicians. For an appreciation of David Grant's
many literary labours, and a detailed account of his
life, we refer our readers to "The Bards of Bon-
Accord," pp. 581-597

I

The Muckle Spate o' 'Twenty-nine

Being some memorials d" the Afitckle Spate in auchteen ttventy-mne,

as the same exhibited itseT f the Hotve o' Feiigh to the een an^

imagination o" an indwaller V the parish <?' StrcCan

jfgtte tbc 3First*

Shawin' the oncome o' the spate, alang wi' the general
ruction ensuiii' an' the special mishanters occurrin' to the
Dysler o' Dalsack ; at Mill o' Clinter ; to Ennochie's cluckin'
hen; to the Fairmer o' Fytestane; at the Mill o' Stra'an ; to
the Souter o' Dalbreck ; to the Wyever o' the Strathy ; and
to the Cairder at Haugh o' Stra'an.

THO' I was only but a bairn
In auchteen twenty-nine,
The mem'ry o' the Muckle Spate
Has never left my min'.

We had a byous weety time,

A week, or maybe niair,
The eident rain kept peltin' on,

Nae single hoor wis fair ;
An' then for four-an'-twenty hoors

There followed a doonfa'
The like o' which, sin' Noah's flood,

The warl' never saw.
The thunner rum'lt roon the hills,

The howes were in a soom,

* Fytte, or fit— section of a poem {fix ford Dictionary).

12 1^on-<ty4^ccord 'Booklets

We thocht the warl', owergaen \vi' age,

Drew near the crack o' doom ;
We thocht the tulzie wis renew't

Wi' yon uncanny ban' ;
We thocht the deil hed speelt the lift,

An' got the upper han' ;
We thocht the promise wis forgot

To droon the warl' nae mair ;
We thocht — we kent na' fat to think,

Oor hieds wi' thocht were sair.

It wis upon a Fiersday nicht,

As near as I can think,
When this ooncommon ootpoor fell

Fae skies as black as ink ;
An' when we raise at skriek o' day,

In ilka bit ravine,
A reamin' burn cam' rum'lin' doon

Faur burn wis nane thestreen.
The Feugh cam' rairin' doon fae Birse,

An' swept the haughs o' Stra'an ;
Horse, pigs, an' kye were droont i' Dye,

An' sheep by scores in A'an.
An' yarn reels, an' spinnin' wheels.

An' bowies, cogs, and caups,
An' tables, chairs, an' cutty steels,

On ane anither's taps ;
An' girnels, aumries, washin' tubs.

An' smuggled whisky kegs ;

T^he SVLuckk Spate 13

Cheese chessils, butter kits, an' kirns,

An' couple bauks an' legs ;
An' divots, thack, an' timmer lums,

An' rantle trees wi' cruiks.
An' backets, baith for aise an' saut.

An' racks for plates an' buiks ;
An' barn-fans, an' flails, an' fleers,

An' canasses an' seeks ;
An' cheeks o' doors, an' doors themsel's,

Wi' broken ban's an' snecks ;
An' firlot measures, corn scythes,

Wi' lang or forkit sneds ;
An' harrows, barrows, cairts, an' pleughs,

An' neep machines an' sleds ;
An' sleeps o' bees, an' sowen sieves.

An' skulls, an' tatie creels ;
An' reets, an' trunks, an' taps o' trees,

An' palin' bars an' deals.
An' sides, an' reefs o' sheds for peats,

Or sheds for haudin' nowt.
And hay that steed in soos or colls,

Or lay into the 'bout ;
An' bere an' aits in sheaves or taits,

Weel haint the simmer through,
Ther'out in rucks or i' the barn,

Weel biggit in a mow.
And ither things that I've forgot

Amid sae gryte a steer.
Or winna inter into rhyme

For crabbit names or queer,

14 '^on-iAccord T^ooklets

Gaed chasin' ane anither doon

Far, far ayont oor ken,
For we at hame were bairns a',

The aul'est barely ten.
And noo my Muse wad no' refuse

To tell you scores o' things
She notit as by-ordinar',

But she maun cour her wings ;
For sorra tak' that printer chiel,

He winna listen till 'er ;
He tells me that to print her screeds,

Wud cost a soud o' siller.
So I maun only wyle a fyou,

An' maybe no' the best,
An' leave till times o' better trade,

Or never print the rest ;
Nor need I wander far abroad,

For me 'twill be eneuch
To sing fat childish senses grasp'd,

Alang the Howe o' Feugh.

The dyster, like a drookit rat,

Escapit fae Dalsack,
Wi' naething save his harn sark

Upon his dreepin' back.
He saved his life, an' little mair.

By perfect speed o' fit,
But lost his shop an' a' his claith.

His bowies, pots, an' lit.

The ^Mtickle Spate 15

At Clinter Mill a mealer lay,

The aits had come fae Knowes,
Unweigh't, unseckit i' the troch,

As gweed's a dizzen bowes ;
Plish-plash the water skelpit in,

Across the disty fleer,
Owre-lap the troch, an' in a trice

The mealer wis caul' steer.

At Ennochie a cluckin' hen

Wis sittin' in a kist,
Baith it an' her were sweelt awa'

Afore the creatur' wist ;
We saw her passin' near Heugh-head

As canty as ye like,
Afore her ark a droonit stirk,

Ahint a droonit tyke,
An' ran anent her doon the banks

For half-a-mile or mair,
Observin' that, at ilka jolt,

She lookit unca scare.
As gin she said within hersel' —

'Faur ever am I gyaun ?
I never saw the like o' this

In Birse nor yet in Stra'an.
Faur ever am I gyaun, bairns ?

Nae canny gait, I doot ;
Gin I cud but get near the side,

I think I wad flee oot.'

1 6 T^on-zAccord 'booklets

We left her near the Burn o' Frusk,

An' speculatit lang
(}in she were carri't to the sea

Afore her ark gaed wrang,
An' may be spairt by Davie Jones

To bring her cleckin' oot,
Gin she wad rear them like a hen

Or like a water coot?

'['wa muckle rucks o' fairnyear's aits

Wer' stanin' at Fytestane
When Fytie gaed to bed at nicht ;

He raise, an' there wis nane !
Noo, Fytie wis a gethert carle,

Fa weel the loss cud bide ;
Rut yet he lap as he were wud.

An' poo't his hair an' cry't —
' We're herrit, wife ! we're herrit clean !

Faur, faur's the fusky pig?
Oor rucks o' corn are baith awa',

An' sae's the timmer bri<i ! '
An' Fytie's Brig, the Lady's Brig,

An' mony brigs forbye,
That spate sent rumblin' doon the Feugh,

Or doon the A'an an' Dye.
A timmer brig ye wadna seen

Faure'er yer fit miclit fa',
An' barely ane o' lime an' stane

That hedna lost a wa'.

T'he ^Miickle Spate 17

At Mill o' Stra'an, the millert's man

Wis busy grinnin' aits,
Wi' a' his thochts on Mary Bell,

An' nane to spare for spates.
When ' clipper clapper ' flew the mill,

As ne'er flew mill afore ;
An' helter-skelter gush'd the spate

Through ilka hole an' bore.
Nae langer noo on women folks

Scared Sandy's notions ran,
There wis eneuch o' thochtfu' wark

For maister an' for man ;
Nor yet for a' 'at baith cud lave,

Or dicht, or dem, or close,
Wis ever seen at Mill o' Stra'an

So big a caup o' brose.

A smatchet o' a lassie serv't

The souter at Dalbreck,
He lost a dizzen ham sarks

Through her entire neglec'.
She left them bleachin' o' the green,

Wi' ither claes a curn ;
The spate cam' on upo' the nicht,

An' a' gaed doon the burn.
A wudder souter lingan ne'er

Through leather tried to rug ;
He took the smatchet wi' his neive

A riesle on the lug.

i8 '^on-iAccord Booklets

'Tak' that,' quo' he, 'ye careless shard,

I'se gar ye wear my marks,
Yer trachle for a dizzen years

Wad no' renew my sarks ! '
The sharger sat an' hoor an' grat

Upo' the deece the but
Until her e'en were baith as red

As coUops newly cut.
' I'll tell my mither noo,' she cried,

' As sure as I 'm alive,
She '11 gar the souter smairt afore

The lawwers o' Stanehive.'

The wyever o' the Strathy's leem

Wis connacht oot-an'-oot,
His wobs o' wincy dawdlt waur

Nor ony scoorin' cloot,
His pirns an' clews, an' worset hesps,

Beclairtit i' the glaur,
Till 'twud hae taen a clever chiel

To tell ye fat they war,
A dowie man the wyever wis.

When to the shop he comes,
' Preserve's,' he cries, ' the hale concern's

Nae worth a bunch o' thrums ! '

The Cairdin' Mill at Haugh o' Stra'an,

The eelie pigs an' woo',
Were ruint, smasht, or sweelt awa',

Alang wi' Cairdy's coo.

l^he .SVLuckle Spate 19

Fat wye the Cairder an' the wife,

Wi' Httle'ns twa or three,
Got aff wi' life, I dinna ken.

An' winna tell a lee ;
For tho' I ken that mony ane

Fa han'le pen an' ink,
Wad no' regaird a lee or twa

To gar their story clink.
Yet I am nae romancin' bard,

In lees I dinna deal.
But only tell the stories learnt

In natur's simple skweel.

jfgtte tbe SeconD

Shawin' the mishanters occurrin' to Johnny Joss the Cadger ;
Davie Durrit ; aul' Willie Wilson; peer Tam M'Rory.
Cammie ; my Sister's Lam'; an' aul' Meg Mill.

A cadger body, Johnny Joss,

Nae far fae Bogendreep,
Lost shawltie, cairtie, creels an' a'

At ae unlucky sweep.
The shawlt wis droonit at the sta',

The cairt washt fae the shed.
An' Johnny made a nar' escape

Fae droonin' in his bed ;
But aifter a' the splore wis owre,

The body, far fae blate.

20 "Bon -(tAc cord "Booklets

Contrived to turn to gweed accoont

The losses by the spate.
He got a beggin' paper drawn

By some buik-learnt chiel,
An' beggit Banchory, Birse, an' Stra'an

An' bits o' Dores as weel ;
An' took a soud o' siller up,

An' when his pouch wis foo,
Crap slyly o'er the Cairn o' Month

Wi' very sma' ado,
An' took a tackie i' the Mearns,

An' got a braw gudewife,
An' lived a much respectit man

The remnant o' his life.
He wadna win in twenty years

By sellin' stinkin' skate
The half o' fat he got in lieu

O' losses by the spate.

Fae Caulmeer Davie Durrit ran

The skeely wife to ca',
But ere he got to Bowsie's Haughs,

The water cover't a'.
He got a horse at Templeton,

An' boldly ventured o'er ;
He cross't the brig, he pass'd the kirk,

He lan't at Lerachmore;
The skeely wife lap fae her bed,

An' buskit in a glint.

The ^Miickle Spate 21

Douce Davie took his seat afore,

The skeely wife ahint,
An' Davie got her doon the brae,

Wi' neither jolt nor jirk,
An' cantily they pass'd the manse

An' cantily the kirk ;
But when they turn't the merchant's shop,

For a' his canty cawin',
' I wadna gyang across,' cried she,

' For a' the wives o' Stra'an !
Preserve's ! the water's ower the brig.

An' oot at baith the en's ;
Turn back the beast, else Fll loup doon,

Tliough I sud brak my banes ! '
The ne'er a word douce Davie spak',

But gae his beast a lick,
An' doon the road, an' owre the brig,

He plash'd through thin an' thick.
The skeely wife she pray't an' bann't.

An' grat for fear an' spite ;
But ne'er a word douce Davie spak',

For a' that she could flyte.
Wi' stick an' heel, owre stream an' peel.

He rade wi' micht an' main,
But to his pairtner's angry words

Fie answerin' word gae nane.
Till baith were safe afore his door,

Then lichtly he lap doon,
'Get aff the beast, gyang in,' cries he,

'An ' try an' gie 's a loon.

22 'Bon-<iAccord Tiooklets

Gyang in at ance, an' ben the hoose,

It 's eeseless noo to fryne ;
Sae tak' a dram an' dae yer wark,

For I 'in seer I 've deen mine.'
Afore an hoor a loon was born,

I min' the little'n weel,
A gyangrel at his mither's fit,

When we were at the skweel.
An' aye the howdie eest to brag,

Through a' her aifter life,
Hoo bravely she rade through the spate

To Davie Durrit's wife.

Aul' Willie Wilson lost his coo,

An' never got anither.
He left her near the waterside

A' nicht upo' the tether.
She brak' the tether in a fleg,

An' clam upon a heugh.
But mist a fit, or took a dwam,

An' tum'lt i' the Feugh,
She sank into the muckle pot,

Aneth the kelpie's stane,
An' afterwards wis swirl't awa' —

He lost her skin an' bane.

Peer Tam M'Rory's breedin' soo,
Gaed doon the Burn o' Cammie,

A muckle loss, an' sair hairt-brak'
Baith to the wife an' Tammie,

"The S\iuckle Spate 23

For they were just expectin' pigs,

An' pigs were gey an' dear,
The Utter wad 'a paid the rent,

An' left a note, or near.

O' Cammie's hay gaed doon the Feugh,

As gweed's a dizzen stanes,
But for the loss richt weel I wat

He made a braw amen's.
I maunna say the carlie wrang.

He's lost the vital spank,
But troth for weeks he gather't hay

Fae Cammie to Deebank.
For ilka stane o' hay he lost

'Twas said he gather't ten.
An' aifter a' wis deen declair't

He hadna half his ain.
He gethert up as well as doon^

An' maybe wisna wrang,
For fa cud tell in sic a spate

Fat gait their gear micht gang?

My sister lost the brocket lam'

She got fae Tammie Durrit —
'Twis said she micht 'a got a croon

O' gweed fyte siller for it.
Peer silly ted, it brak' its string

An' ran upo' the brae,
An' saw a sheep come bleatin' doon

Upon a coll o' hay.

24 Tion-zyiccord 'booklets

We didna ken — it micht 'a thocht
The bleatin' sheep its mither,

At onyrate it juinpit in,

An' baith were droon't thegither.

But wae's my hairt for aul' Meg Mill,

Far kent as ' Birlin ' Meg,'
Fae Persie to the mou' o' Feugh

Nane got a gryter fleg.
Her liefu' lane in her wee hoose

She span the thread like Fate,
Till splash against her ain kailyard

She heard the muckle spate.
' Preserve's ! and guide's ! fat's this ? ' cried Meg,

'The kelpie seer eneuch !
He 's never met wi' sic a spate

Sin' ever Feugh wis Feugh ;
It 's clean owregaen him in his pot,

An' fairly forced to fiee.
He 's come to howff in my kailyard.

Or scram mle up a tree.
An' glaid am I the coord'y klype

Has got's deserts for ance,
To punish him for fleggin' bairns,

An' folks fa live them lanes.
But, safe me ! I maun haud my tongue.

For gin the klype come ben,
He '11 harl me awa' at ance

To Satan's fiery den.'

The SVLuckk Spate 25

An' here sic fears assail'd her min',

O' kelpie, spate, and deil.
That fae her fingers drapt the thread,

An' ceased the birHn' wheel ;
Her hairt lap fairly till her mou'.

An' thumpit like a drum ;
She heard anither splash, and thocht

Her hinner en' had come ;
She luiket but, she luiket ben,

To window and to door.
An' aye she heard the ither splash.

An' aye the ither roar.
She luik't to window and to door,

But dared na ventur' oot ;
She scrammlt to the rantle-tree.

An' warstlt i' the soot.
Wi' a' her micht an' main she tried

To lift the timmer lum,
In hopes o' creepin' through the hole.

But oot it wadna come.
She cudna warstle through the lum,

Nor through the divot reef;
O' a' the ills that e'er cam' doon.

That nicht's were seer the chief.
She reestit o' the rantle-tree

Till it wis braid daylicht ;
Then doon, an' startit for the hills.

Ye ne'er saw sic a sicht.
' Noo, faur ye gyaun?' quo' Cammie's herd;

Quo' Meg, ' To Clochnaben ;

26 ^on-aAccord booklets

Rin, laddie, rin, an' leave yer beasts,

The wordle's at an en' !
The days hev come fan Scriptur' says

The fouks in toons fa be,
Sail leave their hames an' wor'dly gear.

An' to the mountains flee.
Rin, laddie, rin, an' dinna stan'

An' stare as ye were wud.
For Gweed forgie's, the sins o' men

Hev brocht a second flood.
Rin, laddie, rin to Clochnaben,

There's nae a glint to spare,
The angels niicht rax doon for us

Gin we cud but get there.'

jf^nte tbe c:birD

Shawin' the inishanters occurrin' to Johnny o' Blackness;
to Davit o' tlie Toll o' Feugh; and to Watch o' Gellan;
alang vvi' a fyou concludin' remarks by the author.

The lowe o' love hed fired the hairt

O' Johnny o' Blackness ;
The tryst wis set, an' he maun gang

To coort Achattie's Jess.
The flame that brent within his briest —

His first for maiden fair —
As fiercely as a rozet log

On winter hearth did flare.

The ^Miickle Spate 27

Nae water's wecht cud droon it oot

Till it hed droont himsel',
An' he wad mak' his wye to Jess

Though rain in buckets fell.
His muckle coat wis nearly new,

His beets were close an' thick,
He hed an airm wi' nerves like thairm

A trusty aiken stick ;
Wis he to disappoint his Jess

For shovv'rs o' simmer rain ?
Ae kiss fae her were high reward

For nichts o' toil an' pain.
An' hoor intil Achattie's neuk

Wi' Jess upon his knee,
That very nicht his rich reward,

His taste o' bliss sud be.
Sic thochts as these, sic high resolves,

In Johnny's min' prevail,
As he in Blackie's kitchen sits,

An' sups his brose an' kail.
I'ut when he buckles for the road,

An' comes to cross ' The Burn,'
It tak's him mair than oxter deep,

An' he is fain to turn.
' I daurna gang anither fit,

'Twere death an' naething less,
I winna risk to droon mysel'

Nae ev'n for sake o' Jess ! '
So Johnny he crap hame agen.

In spite o' love's desire,

B

28 l^on-zAccord "Booklets

An' hang his dreeping duds to dry

Aroon' the chaumer fire.
But sorra tak' the orra man !

He spread it far an' near,
That Johnny hed set out to court,

But turn't agen for fear.
He didna lat ae word escape

Aboot the awfu' nicht,
But made it seem that Johnny turn't

For pure an' simple fricht.
The story spread, the story grew.

It cam' to Jess's ears,
That Johnny cudna come to court

Because o' ghostly fears.
So slander't Johnny got the seek ;

An' so it cam' to pass.
The millert o' Tillwhillie woo'd

An' mairret Johnny's lass.
My cousin Joseph made a sang

To saften Johnny's care.
An' I '11 insert a copy here,

For copies noo are rare.

Sang— 'Dowie ^obnng'

'The laverock 's liltin' i' the lift,

The mavis i' the tree.
An' gatherin' gear wi' eident thrift,

I hear the honey bee.

The ^Muckk Spate 29

* Fae hill an' dale an' leafy wood

Delightfu' ditties ring ;
Auld Nature, in her blithest mood,

Rejoicin' i' the spring.

' But foo do I, alang the Feugh,

Sae sadly, lanely stray,
An' think o' loupin' owre a heugh,

Like honest Duncan Gray ?

' Like honest Duncan I 've been cross't»

An' cross't in love fu' sair !
For me my Jessie's hairt is lost,

An' lost for evermair !

'The disty millert he 's the loon

That's stown my gem awa' ;
O' a' the ills that e'er cam' doon

Nae harder ill cud fa' !

' My early love, my only ane.

That I believed sae true !
O' gin I were a bairn again

I think I wad boo-hoo !

' I weel cud greet, I weel cud ban,

But that sail never be;
Whate'er his ills, a manly man

Wi' dauntless hairt will dree.

'I '11 wuss the millert luck o' Jess,

An' whistle care awa' ;
The back o' ane may noo distress.

But prove the face o' twa.'

30 T^on-dAccord booklets

The tollman at the Brig o' Feugh,

He like't the drappie weel,
The nicht afore the spate he drank

Till he fell owre the steel.
For souter Spriggs and tailor Twist

Hed ca'd to ' weet their mou','
An' they an' Davit teem't the stoup

Till a' the three were fou ;
An' Davit, when his cronies left,

Aneth the table sank,
But for his nose ye micht 'a' thocht

He 'd lost the vital spank,
His wife's attempts to wauken him

Owercam' her skill and mettle.
So wi' an unco fecht she row't

An' trail't him to the settle.
An' then her tartan plaid she threw

Abeen the snorin' sot.
An' wi' a grunt or twa aboot

'The hardness o' her lot,'
She fill't the eelie lamp wi' oil,

Pat in a rashen wick,
Made doors an' windows but an' ben

As fest as they cud steek,
Pat i' the fire a risten-clod.

Drew up the asse atap,
Then slowly up the stairs to bed

Wi' weary steps she crap.
She gaed to bed, but nae to sleep,

For aye the rain cam' doon,

The SVLuckle Spate 31

An' aye the Feugh gaed rairin past

Wi' lood an' looder soun',
Abeen the brig, abeen the brae,

Up to the window sole
The water raise, an' filter't in

At ilka cranny hole.
The water roun' the settle plashed

An hoor ere brak o' day ;
The tollman wauken't up an' bawl't —

' Fair play ! my boys, fair play !
I winna drink anither drap !

My head is like to rive,
An' gin ye jilp it doon my throat,

Then you an' I '11 strive.
An' mair nor that, ye 've droon't the drink ;

The fushion o't is oot,
It 's caul', it 's weak, it 's waur, I say.

Nor water fae the spoot.'
Aul' Eppie here cam' doon the stair

Else Davit had been droon't,
An' whan she saw the state o' things.

In fac' she nearly swoon't.
' O Davit, we 're in sic a spate

As never yet cam' doon !
Come up the stair, ye senseless gowk,

Unless ye want to droon.
Ye drunken, doitet ne'er-do-weel,

Come up the stair at ance !
Ere I come at ye wi' a rung

An' brak yer lazy banes !

32 ^on-<iAccord 'Booklets

Fat ever keeps ye ficherin' there ?

Ye 're either fey or daft ;
Gin there be safety i' the hoose

It 's i' the eemest laft.
That I wis left to mairry you —

O weary fa' the day !
But yet I dinna want ye droon't —

Ye 're a' the man I hae ! '
An' there, owermaister't by her grief,

A tear ran doon her nose ;
She micht 'a' ventur't to the deece,

But Davit, pechin', rose,
An' stoitet forret, sair perplex't,

Through water three feet deep,
Scarce kennin' gin he wis awauk

Or dreamin' fast asleep.
Till Eppie got him by the tap

An' pu't him up the stair.
Quo' Davit then, ' I 'm wauken't, wife,

Lat go my puckle hair !
I 'm wauken't, wife ! lat go my hair !

Ye 're lowsin't at the reet ! '
Quo' Eppie than, ' Come up the stair,

Ye gweed-for-naething breet ! '
Nor farther sail the Muse relate

Fat passed atween the pair,
But neepers always blamed the spate

For thinnin' Davit's hair.

The ^duckle Spate 33

Peer breet, the dog o' Gellan gaed

Wi' Tarn to Brig o' Feugh,
He spies a stick come soomin' doon,

Ae word fae Tarn's aneuch,
An' in springs Watch to fetch the stick,

An' tulzies lang an' sair,
But in a swirl he sinks at last,

We saw him never mair.
A dowie, dowie loss to me,

An' to my brither Joe,
I do believe 'twis full a raith

Ere we owercam' the blow.
For aye when we to Gellan gaed

Peer Watch wis at the door,
An' waggit 's tail and lickit 's chafts,

An' gambols made galore,
As gin he wud 'a' said, ' Step in,

I '11 follow gin ye please.
An' eat the mealocks ye lat fa'

Fan ye get bread an' cheese ;
For bread and cheese ye 're sure to get,

A drink o' milk as weel.
An' mealocks ye '11 lat fa' for me,

Else I hae tent my skeel.
Step ben the hoose ; yer auntie's in.

An' sae 's yer cousin Bell ;
They 're i' the kitchen trockin' baith,

I saw them there mysel'.
Step in, my bairns, an' get a piece ;

At Gellan we hae raff.

34 '^on-aAccord booklets

Tak' doon the the aul'est kebbock, Bell,
An' cut them knievlocks aff.'

Nae wunner then though Joe an I
Owre Watch made muckle main,

An' mis't him sair at Gellan's door
When we gaed back again.

But still the spate made some amen's,-

We captured troots an' eels,
An' noo an' than a protty grilse

For weeks amo' the peels.
Fae brak' o' day till fa' o' nicht

Alang the haughs we ran.
An' skilpit barefit i' the peels, —

O sirs, but it wis gran' !
Ye sud' 'a' seen us wade an' plasli,

An' heard oor shouts ring oot
AVhen we espy't a siller grilse.

Or muckle yallow troot.
O sirs, it gars me haud my head,

To think upo' the time;
It chokes my voice, it blin's my een,

It drives me aff my rhyme.
An' sae sic samples maun suffice,

For mair ye mauna luik.
Since ane fa scarce can sing a sang,

Wud ill mak' up a buik.
* Sic samples,' faith, I fear my Muse

Has run at railway speed,

The ^Muckie Spate

35

An' fyou her ' samples ' may peruse,
An' fyouer buy her screed.

An' sae I *11 en' as I began —
In Scotlan's boun's sin' syne,

We hinna hed anither spate
Like auchteen twenty-nine.

GLOSSARY

Abeen — above.
Aits — oats.
Anent— in front of.
Asse — ashes.
Aughteen — eiglileen.
Aumries — cupboards.
Avvauk — awake.
Ayont — beyond.

Backets — vvi)oden receptacles for
holding ashes or for salt.

Bairn — child.

Ban — to curse, to swear.

Ban's — bands.

Beclairtet — besmeared, be-
daubed.

Beets — boots.

Bide — to stay, to bear, to suffer.

Birlin — whistling, revolving.

Blate — a dullard, shy, bashful.

Bout, into the — as it fell when
cut.

Bowies — barrels.

Braw — handsome, fine, pretty,
grand.

Brent — burnt.

Breet — brute.

Brocket — having a black and
white marked face, spotted.

Brose — oatmeal mixed with
boiling water or milk.

Buiks — books.

Bu.skit — dressed.

But an' ben — the two ends of a
house, i.e., the kitchen and
the sitting-room.

By-ordinar — extraordinary, out
the common.

Byous — beyond ordinary.

Cadger — an itinerant merchant.
Canasses — canvas sheets for

catching the grain at win-
nowing time.
Canty — cheerful, merry, brisk,

lively.
Cantily — pleasantly, merrily.
Carle — a peasant, an old man.
Caul-steer— meal and cold water.
Caups — wooden bowls.
Cawin' — driving.
Chafts — chops, jaws.
Chaumer — chamber, bedroom.
Cheeks o' doors — door-posts.
Chessils — cheese-presses.
Chiel — a fellow, a man.
Clam — climbed, clambered.
Cleckin' — brood of chickens.
Clews — balls of worsted.
Cloot, scoorin' — a bit old cloth

for washing floors.
Clink — rhyme, jingle.
Cogs — pails made with staves.
Colls — hay-ricks.
CoUops — slices of raw meat.
Connacht — destroyed, spoiled.
Coord'y — cowardly.
Couple-bauks — the cross beams

of a roof on which rafters are

laid.
Cour — droop, stoop through fear.
Crack o'doom — dayof judgment.
Creels — fish-baskets.
Cruiks — chains and hooks for

suspending pots over a fire.
Crap — crept.
Cud — could.
Curn — a quantity.
Cutty-steels — low stools.

Qlossary

37

Dawdlt — bedabbled, knocked
about, spoiled.
F Deece — an old-fashioned wooden
settle.

Deil — the evil one.

Dem — dam.

Dicht — clean, wipe.

Divot — a thin flat oblong turf
used for covering cottages.

Doitet — foolish, silly, slow to
apprehend.

Douce — steady, quiet, plodding,
respectable.

Dowie — sad, sorrowful, ailing.

Drappie — intoxicants.

Drookit — drenched, half-
drowned.

Duds — clothes.

Dwam — a swoon.

Dyster — a dyer.

Eelie-pigs — oil jars.
Eemest — uppermost.
Eest — used.
Eeseless — useless.
Eident — continuous, steady.
Eneuch — enough, sufficient.

Fae — from.

Fairnyear — preceding year.

Fat — what.

Faur — where.

Fest — fast.

Fey — doomed, mad, frenzied.

Ficherin' — trifling, delaying,
fumbling.

Fiersday — Thursday.

Fit — foot.

Fleers — floors.

Fleg — fright.

Flyte — scold.

Forbye — besides.

Forret — forward.

Fou — intoxicated.

Fryne — to fret through ill-
humour.

Fashion — strength.
Fusky-pig — ^jar for holding

whisky.
Fyou — few.
Fyte — white.
Fytte or fit — section of a poem.

Gait — road, direction.

Galore — in abundance.

Gar — compel.

Gethert — wealthy, well-to-do.

Gey an' dear — high-piiced.

Gin — if.

Girnels — meal-chests.

Glaur — soft liquid mud.

Glint — a gleam, an instant of

time.
Gowk — a blockhead.
Grat — wept.
Grinnin' — grinding.
Gryte — great.
Gweed — good.
Gyangrel — a child just beginning

to wallc.
Gyaun — going.

Haint — economised, preserved.
Harn-sark — coarse linen or

hempen shirt.
Haughs — flat lands by a river.
Harl — pull roughly.
Herrit — despoiled, ruined.
Hesp — a hank of yarn.
Heugh — a steep bank.
Hieds — heads.

Hinner-en' — last hour, death.
Hoor — hour.
Howdie — midwife.
Howes — hollows.
Howff — to take shelter, a shelter.

Ilka — each, every.
Inter — enter.

Tilp — to dash water on one.

38

(glossary

Kebbock — whole cheese.

Kegs — small casks.

Kelpie — water spirit.

Kennin' — knowing.

Kirns — churns.

Knieviocks — lumps, a good-sized

bit.
Kist — chest, box.
Klype — a term of contempt, a

tell-tale.

Laft— a loft.

Lap— leapt.

Lave — to bale water.

Laverock — lark.

Lawwers — lawyers.

Legs — frames for stretching

stockings.
Leem — loom.
Lick — a stroke with a whip or

slick.
Liefu' lane — quite alone.
Lift — sky, heavens.
Lilt — to sing merrily.
Lingan — shoemaker's thread.
Lit — dye.

Little'ns — children.
Loup — to spring, to leap.
Loon — a boy.
Lowe — light.
Lowsin't — loosening.
Lug — ear.
Lum — chimney.

Main — moan, lament.

Maun — must.

Mealer — quantity of meal ground

at a time.
Mealocks — small fragments of

oatcakes.
Mishanters — misfortunes.
Mow — a small rick.
Muckle — large, great.

Neep — turnip.
Neive — fist, hand.

Neuk — corner by the fire.
Note — a pound-note.
Newt — cattle.

Orra man — a
upon a farm

man employed
to do odds and

ends.

Oxter — armpit.

Ovvergaun — exhausted, over-
come.

Pechin' — panting, breathing

with difficulty.
Pirn— bobbin of a shuttle.
Poo't— pulled.
Pot — a deep pool in a river.
Pretty — -fine, excellent.
Puckle — an indefinite quantity.

Raff — plenty, abundance.

Rairin' — roaring.

Raise — rose.

Raith — quarter of a year.

Rantle-trees — iron bars in chim-
ney on which the crooks for
pots are hung.

Rashen — made of rushes.

Rax — reach, reach out for.

Reamin' — overflowing, foaming.

Reefs — roofs.

Reels — roots.

Reeslit — to be suddenly stopped
in progress, to perch like a
bird at night.

Rive — to split.

Riesle — a resounding blow.

Risten-clod — a sod to keep iii
the fire over-night.

Row't— rolled.

Rozet log — resinous log.

Ruck — rick or stack.

Rug — to pull, to tug.

Rung — cudgel, staff or stick.

Seer — sure.

Seek, got the — discharged.

Qiossary

39

Screeds — writings.

Seeks — sacks.

Settle — a long seat in kitchen.

Shard — a term of contempt for a
little despicable person.

Sharger — a thin stunted person.

Shawltie — a pony, small horse.

Siller — silver, money.

Skeely-wife — midwife.

Skeil— skill.

Skeps — straw beehives.

Skilpit — waded.

Skriek o' day — cock-crow, day-
break.

Skulls — shallow wicker-baskets.

Skweel — school.

Sleds — low frameworks without
wheels for carrying loads.

Smatchet — a little person, a
small stunted person.

Snecks — latches.

Sneds — handles or shafts.

Sole — sill.

Soom — svvim.

Soos — haystacks of rectangular
shape.

Soud — a quantity, a deal of.

Souter — shoemaker.

Sowen sieves — sieves for sifting
out the oatmeal husks from
which sowens are made.

Spank (commonly "spunk") —
a spark of fire — to lose the
vital, to die.

Spate — flood.

Speelt — climbed, scaled.

Splore — disturbance.

Steed — stood.

Steel — stool.

Steer — confusion.

Stirk— a young bull or heifer.

Stoitet — staggered, stumbled.

Stoup — a flagon.

Svvirl't awa' — carried off with a

whirling motion.
Sweelt awa' — washed away.

Tackie — a croft, a small farm.

Tails — small bundles, trusses.

Tap — top.

Tatie — potato.

Ted — a term of contempt.

Teeni't — emptied.

Tent — lost.

Thack — thatch.

Thairm — cord of catgut.

Ther'out — outside.

Thocht — thought.

Thestreen — last night.

Thrums — waste ends of thread.

Timmer — wooden.

Trachle — pottering work.

Trockin' — familiar intercourse,

pottering.
Tulzie— a struggle.
Tyke— a dog.

Unco fecht— uncommon struggle.
Unca — very, extremely, great.
Uncanny — not kindly, unearthly,

possessed of supernatural

powers.
Unseckit — not put into sacks.

Warstlt — struggled, wrestled.
Weety — wet.
Win — earn, to get.
Wud — mad, angry.
Wudder — angrier.
Wyever — weaver.
Wyle — select, choose.

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