A collection of ancient and modern Scottish ballads, etc

32G
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The first It smelt sae sappelie.
To touche the lave he did nocht greine
^' The devil cut off thair hands," quoth he,
*' That fiird ye a' sa fow yestrene !"
He trailit the fowll sheites down the gait,
Thocht to haif waschet thame on a stane
The burne was risen grit of spait.
Away fra him the slieitis has tane.
Then up he gat on ane know heid.
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On hir to cry, on hir to schout
Scho hard him, and scho hard him not,
Bot stoutly steirid the etottis about.
Scho draif al day unto the nicht
Scho lousit tlie pleuch, and syne came hame:
Scho fand all wrang that sould bene richt
I trow the man thocht richt grit schame.
Quoth he, " My office I forsaik
For all the dayis of my lyfe ;
For I wald put ane house to wraik.
Had I bene twenty dayis gudwife."
Quoth scho, " Weil meit ye bruke your place^
For trewlie I will nevir accep it :"
Quoth he, " Feind fall the lyaris face,
Bot yit ye may be blyth to git it."
Then up scho gate ane mekle rung.
And the gudman maid to the doir
Quoth he, " Deme I sail hald my tung.
For an we fecht I'll get the woir."
Quoth he, " Quhen I forsuik my pleuch,
I trow I but forsuik my sell
And I will to my pleuch agane.
For I and this hous will neir do wdl."
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