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THE WIFE OF AUCHTERMUCHTY, by                    
First Line: In auchtermuchty there dwelt ane man
Last Line: For I and this house will never do weil


IN Auchtermuchty there dwelt ane man,
Ane husband, as I heard it tauld,
Wha weil could tipple out a can,
And neither luvit hunger nor cauld.
Whill anis it fell upon a day,
He yokit his pleuch upon the plain;
Gif it be true as I heard say,
The day was foul for wind and rain.

He lousit the pleuch at the landis en',
And draif his oxen hame at even;
When he come in he lookit ben,
And saw the wife baith dry and clean,
And sittand at ane fire beikand bauld,
With ane fat soup as I heard say:
The man being very weet and cauld,
Between thae twa it was na play.

Quoth he, "Where is my horses' corn?
My ox has neither hay nor strae;
Dame, ye maun to the pleuch to-morne,
I sall be hussy, gif I may."
"Husband," quod she, "content am I
To tak the pleuch my day about,
Sa ye will rule baith calvis and kye,
And all the house baith in and out.

"Bot sen that ye will hussif-skep ken,
First ye sall sift, and syne sall knead;
And ay as ye gang but and ben,
Luik that the bairnis be snodly cled.
Ye'se lay ane soft wisp to the kiln,
We haif ane dear farm on our heid;
And ay as ye gang furth and in,
Keep weil the gaislingis fra the gled."

The wife was up richt late at even,
I pray God gife her evil to fare,
She kirn'd the kirn, and scum'd it clean,
And left the gudeman bot the bledoch bare.
Than in the morning up she gat,
And on her hairt laid her disjeune,
She put as meikle in her lap,
As micht haif ser'd them baith at noon.

Sayis, "Jock, will thou be maister of wark,
And thou sall haud and I sall call;
I'se promise thee ane gude new sark,
Either of round claith or of small".
She lousit the oxen aucht or nine,
And hynt ane gadstaff in her hand;
And the gudeman raise eftir syne,
And saw the wife had done command.

And ca'd the gaislingis furth to feed,
There was bot seven-some of them all,
And by there comis the greedy gled,
And lickit up five, left him bot twa.
Than out he ran in all his main,
How sune he heard the gaislingis cry;
Bot than or he come in again,
The calvis brak louse and soukit the kye.

The calvis and kye being met in the loan
The man ran with ane rung to red;
Than by their comis ane ill-willy cow,
And brodit his buttock whill that it bled.
Than hame he ran to ane rock of tow,
And he sat doun to 'say the spinning;
I trow he loutit owre near the lowe,
Quod he, "This wark has ill beginning".

Than to the kirn that he did stoure,
And jumlit at it whill he swat,
When he had jumlit a full lang hour,
The sorrow crap of butter he gat.
Albeit na butter he could get,
Yit he was cummerit with the kirn,
And syne he het the milk owre het,
And sorrow spark of it wald yirn.

Than ben there come ane greedy sow,
I trow he cun'd her little thank,
And in she shot her meikle mou',
And ay she winkit and she drank.
He cleikit up ane crukit club,
And thocht to hit the sow ane rout;
The twa gaislingis the gled had left,
That straik dang baith their harnis out.

Than he bure kindling to the kiln,
Bot she start all up in ane lowe,
Whatever he heard, whatever he saw,
That day he had na will to mow.
Than he yeid to take up the bairnis,
Thocht to haif fund them fair and clean;
The first that he gat in his armis
It was all dirt up to the een.

Than up he gat on ane knowe-heid,
On her to cry, on her to shout,
She heard him, and she heard him not,
Bot stoutly steer'd the stottis about.
She draif the day unto the nicht,
She lousit the pleuch and syne come hame;
She fand all wrang that sould been richt,
I trow the man thocht richt great shame.

Quod he, "My office I forsake
For all the dayis of my life,
For I wald put ane house to wraik,
Had I been twenty dayis gudewife",
Quod she, "Weil mot ye bruik the place,
For truly I will never accep' it".
Quod he, "Fiend fall the liaris face,
Bot yit ye may be blyth to get it".

Than up she gat an maikle rung,
And the gudeman made to the door;
Quod he, "Dame, I sall hald my tongue,
For an we fecht I'll get the waur".
Quod he, "When I forsook my pleuch,
I trow I bot forsook my seill,
And I will to my pleuch again,
For I and this house will never do weil".





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