Chapter XII: Part III (1)

I travelled then west by Falkirk, by the foot of the great hills; and one night after I had got lodging in a farmer’s house, there happened a contest between the goodman and his mother, he being a young man unmarried, as I understood, and formerly their sowens had been too thin; so the goodman, being a sworn birly-man of that barony, came to survey the sowens before they went on the fire, and actually swore they were o’er thin; and she swore by her conscience they would be thick enough, if ill hands and ill een bade awa frae them. A sweet be here, mither, said he, do you think that I’m a witch? Witch here, or witch there, said the wife, swearing by her saul, and that was nae banning, she said, they’ll be gude substantial meat;--a what say you chapman? Indeed, goodwife, said I, sowens are but saft meat at the best, but, if you make them thick enough, and put a good lump of butter in them, they’ll do very well for a supper. I trow sae lad, said she, ye ha’e some sense: so the old woman put on the pot with her sowens, and went to milk the cows, leaving me to steer; the goodman, her son, as soon as she went out, took a great cogful of water, and put it into the pot amongst the sowens, and then went out of the house and left me alone: I considering what sort of a pish-the-bed supper I was to get if I staid there, thought it fit to set out, but takes up a pitcher of water, and fills up the pot until it was running over, and then takes up my pack, and comes about a mile farther that night, leaving the honest woman and her son to sup their watery witched sowens at their own pleasure.

The next little town I came to, and the very first house that I entered, the wife cried out, ‘Plague on your snout, sir, ye filthy blackguard chapman-like b----h it ye are, the last time ye came here ye gart our Sandy burn the gude bane kame it I gid a saxpence for in Fa’kirk, ay did ye, ay, sae did ye een, and said ye wad gie him a muckle clear button to do it.’ Me, said I, I never had ado with you a’ the days of my life, and do not say that Sandy is mine. A wae worth the body, am I saying ye had ado wi’ me, I wadna hae ado wi’ the like o’ you, nor I am sure wi’ them I never saw. But what about the button and the bane kame, goodwife? Sannock is na this the man? Ay is’t, cried the boy, gie me my button, for I burnt the kame, and she paid me for’t. Gae awa, sir, said I, your mother and you are but mocking me. It was either you or ane like you, or some other body. O goodwife, I mind who it is now; ’twas just ane like me, when ye see the tane ye see the tither; they ca’ him Jock Jimbither. A wae worth him, quoth the wife, if I dinna thrapple him for my gude bane kame. Now, said I, goodwife, be good, bridle your passion, and buy a bane kame and coloured napkin, I’ll gie you a whaukin’ penny-worth, will gar you sing in your bed, if I should sell you the tae half and gift you the tither, and gar you pay for every inch o’t sweetly or a’ be done. Hech, man, said she, ye’re a hearty fallow, and I hae need o’ a’ these things, but a bane kame I maun hae; for our Sannock’s head is a’ hotchen, and our John’s is little better, for an’ let them alane but ae eight days, they grow as grit as grossets. And here I sold a bane kame and a napkin, for she believed such a douse lad as I had no hand in making the boy burn the bone comb.

The next house I came into, there was a very little tailor sitting on a table, like a t--d on a trencher, with his legs plet over other, made me imagine he was a sucking three-footed tailor; first I sold him a thimble, and then he wanted needles which I showed him, one paper after another; he looked their eyes and trying their nibs in his sleeve, dropt the ones he thought proper on the ground between his feet, where he sat in a dark corner near the fire, thinking I did not perceive him. O said he them needles of yours are not good, man, I’ll not buy any of them. I do not think you need, said I, taking them out of his hand, and lights a candle that was standing near by; come, said I, sit about, you thieving dog, till I gather up my needles, then gathers up ten of them.

Come, said he, I’ll buy twa penny worth of them frae ye, I hae troubled you sae muckle; no, said I, you lousied dog, I’ll sell you none, if there’s any on the ground, seek them up and stap them in a beast’s a--se; but if ye were a man, I would burn you in the fire, though it be in your own house; but as you are a poor tailor, and neither a man nor a boy, I’ll do nothing but expose you for what you are. O dear honest chapman, cried his wife, ye maunna do that, and I’se gie you cheese and bread. No, no, you thieves, I’m for nothing but vengeance; no bribes for such. So as I was lifting up my pack, there was a pretty black cat which I spread my napkin over, took the four corners in my hand, carrying her as a bundle, until I came about the middle of the town, then provoking the dogs to an engagement with me, so that there came upon me four or five collies, then I threw the poor tailor’s cat in the midst of them, and a terrible battle ensued for some time, and baudrins had certainly died in the field, had I not interposed and got her off mortally wounded. The people who saw the battle alarmed the tailor, and he sallied out like a great champion, with his elwand in his hand. Go back, said I, you lousie dog, or I’ll tell about the needles; at which word he turned about. I travelled down the side of a water called Avon; and as I was coming past a mill-dam, there was a big clownish fellow lifting a pitcher of water out of the dam, so he dipt it full and set it down on the ground, staring at me he rumbled in himself out of sight o’er head and ears, and as soon as he got out, I said,--Yo ho, friend, did you get the fish? What an a fish, ye b----h? O, said I, I thought you had seen a fish, when you jumped in to make it jump out. What a d----l, sir, are you mocking me?--runs round his pitcher, and gives me a kick on the a--e, so that I fell designedly on his pitcher, and it tumbled down the bank and went in pieces: his master and another man looking and laughing at us, the poor fellow complained of me to him, but got no satisfaction.

The same evening as I was going towards the town of Linlithgow, I met an old crabbed fellow riding upon an old glaid mare, which he always was thrashing upon with his stick. Goode’en to you, goodman, said I, are you going to the bull wi’ your mare? What do you say sir? they gang to the bull wi’ a cow, you brute. O yes, goodman, you are right, said I; but what do they ca’ the he-beast that rides on the mare’s back? They ca’d a cusser, sir: a well then, goode’en to you, master cusser. He rides a little bit, then turns back in a rage, saying, I say, sir, your last words are waur than your first: he comes then to ride me down, but I struck his beast on the face, and in a short turn about it fell, yet, or I could get my pack to the ground, he cut me on the head at the first stroke; I then getting clear of the pack, played it away for some time, till by blows on the face, I made him bleed at both mouth and nose; then he cried out, Chapman, we are baith daft, for we’ll kill oursells and mak naething o’t; we had better ’gree: with all my heart, said I; and what will you buy? nothing but a pair of beard shears, said he, and give me them cheap; so I sold him a pair of B. shears, for three half-pence, and give him a needle, then parted good friends after the battle was over.

So I went to Linlithgow that night, where I met with Drouthy Tom, my sweet and dear companion, and here we held a most terrible encounter with the tippenny for twa nights and a day; and then we set out for Fife, on the hair order, by the way of Torryburn and Culross; and came up to a parcel of women washing by a water-side, I buys one of their hair: the time I was cutting it off, Tom fell a courting and kissing and clapping one of them, what happened I know not, but she cried out, Ye mislear’d filthy fallow, ye put your hand atween my feet. Daft jade, canna ye haud your tongue when it’s your ain shame that ye speak. Filthy body, the last chapman that kissed me had a horse pack, but he’ll hae naething in his Pack but auld breeks, hare skins, mauken skins, or ony trash that fills the bag and bears bouk, and yet he wad kiss and handle me! I was made for a better fallow.

FINIS.

THE

COMICAL HISTORY

OF

SIMPLE JOHN

AND HIS

TWELVE MISFORTUNES,

WHICH HAPPENED ALL IN TWELVE DAYS AFTER THE UNHAPPY
DAY OF HIS MARRIAGE.

GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

COMICAL HISTORY

OF

SIMPLE JOHN,

AND HIS

TWELVE MISFORTUNES.

Simple John was a widow’s son, and a coarse country weaver to his trade. He made nothing but such as canvas for caff-beds, corn and coal sacks, drugget and harn was the finest webs he could lay his fingers to: he was a great lump of a lang, lean lad, aboon sax feet afore he was aughteen years auld; and, as he said himsel, he grew sae fast, and was in sic a hurry to be high, that he did not stay to bring a’ his judgment with him, but yet he hoped it would follow him, and he would meet wi’t as mony a ane does after they’re married. He had but ae sister, and she had as little sense as himsel’, she was married on Sleeky Willie, the wylie weaver; his mither was a rattling rattle-scull’d wife, and they lived a’ in ae house, and every body held them as a family of fools. When John came to man’s estate, to the age of twenty-one years, he told his mither he would hae a wife o’ some sort, either young or auld, widow or lass, if they had but heads and lips, tongue and tail, he should tak them, and weel I wat, mither, quoth he, they’ll get a lumping penny-worth o’ me, get me wha will.

His mither tells him o’ the black butcher on Ti’ot-side, wha had three doughters, and every ane o’ them had something, there was Kate, Ann, and Girzy, had a hundred merks the piece. Kate and Ann had baith bastards. Girzy the eldest had a humph back, a high breast, baker legged, a short wry neck, thrawn mouth, and goggle ey’d; a perfect Æsop of the female kind, with as many crooked conditions within as without, a very lump of loun-like ill-nature, row’d a’ together, as if she had been nine months in a haggis, a second edition of crook backed Richard, an old English King, that was born with teeth to bite a’ around about him, and yet the wight gaed mad to be married.

John’s mither told him the road where to go, and what to say, and accordingly he sets out wi’ his Sunday’s coat on, and a’ his braws, and a pair of new pillonian breeks o’ his mither’s making. In he comes and tells his errand before he would sit down, says good day to you, goodman, what are you a’ doing here? I am wanting a wife, an’ ye’re a flesher, and has a gude sorting aside you, my mither says ye can sair me or ony body like me, what say ye till’t, goodman? How mony douchters hae ye? Are they a’ married yet? I fain wad tak a look o’ some o’ them gin ye like.

A wow, said the goodwife, come in by, honest lad, and rest ye, an ye be a wooer sit down and gie’s a snuff--A deed, goodwife, I hae nae mills but my mither’s, and it’s at hame.--Whare win ye, I’se no ken ye? I wat, quoth he, my name’s Jock Sandyman, and they ca’ me Simple John the sack weaver. I hae nae tocher but my loom, a pirn-wheel, a kettle, pat, a brass pan, twa pigs, four cogs, and a candlestick, a good cock, a cat, twa errocks new begun to lay; my sister Sara is married on Sleeky Willie the wylie weaver, and I maun hae a hagwife or my mither die, for truly she’s very frail, and ony harl o’ health she has is about dinner time; what say ye till’t, goodman? can ye buckle me or not?

_Goodman._ A dear John, ye’re in an unco haste, ye wadna hae your wife hame wi’ ye? they’re a’ there before ye, which o’ them will ye tak?

Hout, tout, says John, ony o’ them will sair me, but my mither says there is twa o’ them has fauts. And what is their fauts? says the goodwife. Hout, said John, it’s no meikle faut, but I dinna like it, they got men or they were married. And what shall I do wi’ them? said the goodman.

_John._ A deed, goodman, as ye’re ay dealing among dead beasts and living beasts, I wad put them awa among ither beasts, or gin ye be aun ony penny, let somebody tak them up o’ desperate debt, I sud flie the fykes frae them, they anger’d you, and sham’d you baith with their bastards, a wheen daft jades it gets men or they be married, and bairns or they get bridals.

_Goodwife._ A wat weel that’s true, lad.

_Girzy._ A weel, John, then, will ye tak me; I hae nae bastards; how will you and I do?

_John._ I wat na gin ye be able to get a bastard, yet ye may hae some waur faut; but ye maun be my pennyworth, for ye’re unco little, and I’m o’er muckle, and gin ye and I war ance carded through ither, we may get bonny weans o’ a middlen mak. I hae nae fauts to ye, but ye hae a high breast, a humph back, a short neck, and high shouthers, the hands and legs may do, tho’ your mouth be a wee to the tae side it will lie weel to the rock, and I hae a hantle o’ tow to spin, will be baith sarks and sacks till us, ye’ll be my soncy dauty, up and down; a perfect beauty, wi’ cat’s yellow een, black brous, and red lips, and your very nose is a purple colour; ye hae nae fauts at a’. Now, whan will we be married?

_Girzy._ Ha, ha, John lad, we maun think on that yet.

_John._ What the yeltow, lass, should na ye be ready whan I’m ready, and every body says that the woman’s aye ready.

_Goodman._ Ye’ll hae to come back and bring somebody wi’ you, and we’ll gree about it, and set the day whan ye’ll be married.

_John._ A weel, goodman, I’ll tell my mither o’t, and come back on Monday, and we’ll hae a chappin o’ ale, and roasted cheese on the chance o’t, but I maun hae a word o’ the bride out by, to convoy me, and a quiet speak to hersel about it.

_Goodwife._ A wow na, John, the daft loons will laugh at you, and she’ll think shame, gang ye out by, and she’ll speak to you through the gavel window.

Out goes John, and the bride, and her twa sisters goes to the window within to hear the diversion, and what he would say. Now says John, Girzy my dear, my braw pretty woman, an ye be in earnest, tell me, for by my suth I’m no scorning.

_Girzy._ Indeed, John, I’m very willing to tak ye, but ye needna tell every body about it.

_John._ Then gie me a kiss on that.

He shoves his head in at the window, making a lang neck to win down to her, and she stood on a little stool to win up to him. O, cries he, an ye were good flesh I could eat you a’, I like you sae weel; it’s a pity there is sic a hard wa’ between us, I’se tell my mither sae bonny as ye are: O, gie me anither kiss yet, and then I’ll go. One of her sisters standing by in a dark corner, gets haud o’ a cow’s head, which wanted a’ the skin but about the mouth, and shoves it towards his mouth, which he kissed in the dark. O, cries he, your mouth be cauld since I kissed ye last, and I think ye hae a beard, I saw nae that before, or is’t wi’ spinning tow that maks your mouth sae rough at e’en.

Hame he comes, and tells his mither the speed and properties of the marriage.

All things was got ready, and next week Sleeky Willie the weaver and him came to gree the marriage, and stay all night with the bride, and teach John good manners, for when John was hungry, he minded his meat mair than his good behaviour, and he never was fu’ till the dish was tume. Willie the weaver was to tramp on his fit when he thought he had suppet aneugh; so all things being agreed, upon short and easy terms, and the wedding day set, they were to be three times cried on Sunday, and quietly married on Monday, neither piper nor fiddler to be employ’d, but sweith awa hame frae the Minister, and into the bed amang the blankets; ha, ha, cried John, that’s the best o’t a’.

Now every thing being concluded and proposed, the supper was brought, a large fat haggis, the very smell wad a done a hungry body gude, but John had only got twa or three soups, until one of the butcher’s meikle dogs tramped on John’s fit, which he took to be the weaver, and then he would eat nae mair. After supper they went to bed John and the weaver lay together, and then he abused the weaver for tramping sae soon, which he denied; but O, said John, there’s a hantle o’t left, and I saw whare it was set; they are a’sleeping, I’ll go rise and tak a soup o’t yet. Aye, een do sae, said Sleeky Willie, and bring a soup to me too. Away then John goes to the amry, and lays to the haggis, till his ain haggis could haud nae mair; then brought some to Sleeky Willie; but, instead of going to the bed where he was, goes to the bed where the bride and the twa sisters lay, they being fast asleep, speaks slowly, Will ye tak it, will ye tak it; but they making no answer, he turns up the blankets to put a soup into Willie’s mouth, but instead of doing so, he puts a great spoonful close into one of their backsides. Sleeky Willie hears a’ that past, comes out the bed, and sups out the remainder, and sets up the dish where it was, leaves the amry door open to let the cats get the blame of supping the haggis, and away they go to bed; but poor John could get nae sleep for drouth; up he gets in search of the water-can, and finding an empty pitcher, puts in his hand to find if there was any water in it, but finding nane he closed his hand when it was within the pitcher, and then could not get it out, goes to the bed and tells Sleeky Willie what had happened him, who advised him to open the door, and go out to a knocking-stane that stood before the door, and break it there, to get out his hand, and not to make a noise in the house. So out he goes, and the bride’s sister who had gotten the great spoonful of the haggis laid to her backside, was out before him, rubbing the nastiness (as she took it to be) off the tail of her sark, and she being in a louting posture, he took her for the knocking-stane, and comes ower her hurdies with the pitcher, till it flew in pieces about her, then off she runs with the fright, round a turf-stack, and into the house before him. John came in trembling to the bed again, wi’ the fright, praying to preserve him, for sic a knocking-stane he never yet saw, for it ran clean awa when he broke the pig upon it.

Now John was furnished in a house by his father-in-law; the bed, the loom, heddles, treadles, thrumbs, reed, and pirn-wheel, was a’ brought and set up before the marriage, which was kept a profound secret; so that John got the first night of his ain wife, and his ain house at ae time. So, on the next morning after the marriage, John and his wife made up some articles, how they were to work, and keep house; John was to keep the house in meat, meal, fire, and water; Girzy was to mak the meat, and keep the house in clothes; the father-in-law to pay the rent for three years; they were to hae nae servants, until they had children; and their first child was to be a John, after its ain Daddy, get it wha will, if a boy; and if a girl, Girzy, after its ain minny, as she said, wha wrought best for’t.

MISFORTUNE I.

Then she ordered John to rise and begin his wark, by putting on a fire, and to tak the twa new pigs and gang to the well for water. No sooner had John opened the door, and gone out with a pig in every hand, than a’ the boys and girls being gathered in a crowd to see him, gave a loud huzza: and clapping their hands at him, poor John, not knowing what it meant, thought it was fine sport, began to clap his hands too, and not minding the twa pigs, clashes the tane against the tither, till baith went to pieces, and that was a cheerful huzza to baith young and auld that was looking at him; Girzy the wife draws him into the house, and to him she flies with the wicked wife’s weapon, her Tongue and Tangs, and made his ribs to crack, saying, “They told me ye war daft, but I’ll ding the daffing out o’ ye, I’ll begin wi’ you as I’ve a mind to end wi’ you.” Poor John sat crying and clawing his head.

“Ha, ha,” said he, “its nae bairn’s play to be married, I find that already.” His mother-in-law came in and made up peace, went to a cooper, and got them a big wooden stoop to carry in their water.

MISFORTUNE II.

Next morning, John was sent to the Flesh-market an errand to his Father-in-law, who gave him a piece of flesh to carry home, and as he was coming out of the market, he saw six or seven of the flesher dogs fall on and worry at a poor country colly dog; “Justice, justice,” cries John to the dogs, “ye’re but a wheen unmannerly rascals, that fa’s a’ on ae poor beast, heth ye should a’ be put in the toubuoth, and ta’en to the bailies, and hanged for the like o’ that; its perfect murder;” and in he runs amongst the dogs, “And be hanged to you a’ thegither, What’s the quarrel? What’s the quarrel?” John flings down the flesh he had carrying, and grips the colly, who took John for an enemy too, and bites his hands till the blood followed, the whole of the tykes comes a’ on poor John, till down he goes in the dirt amongst their feet, and one of the dogs runs off with the flesh, so John went hame both dirty and bloody and without his flesh, told Girzy how it happened, who applied her old plaister, her Tangs and Tongue, made John to curse the very minister that married them, and wished he might ne’er do a better turn.

MISFORTUNE III.

Next morning, John was sent to the well with the great stoup to bring in water for breakfast; and as he was pulling the stoup out of the well, in he tumbles and his head down, the well being narrow, he couldna win out: some people passing by chance heard the slunge, cried, and ran to his relief, hauled him out half dead, and helped him into the house; and after getting a dry sark, he was comforted with the old plaister, her Tongue and hard Tangs.

MISFORTUNE IV.

Next day, she says, John, I must go to the market myself, for if you go you’ll fight wi’ the dogs, and let them run awa wi’ ony thing you buy: see that ye put on the pat, hae’t boiling again I come hame. John promised weel, but performs very badly. She’s no sooner gone, than he puts on the new pat without any water in it, and a good fire to make it boil, and away he goes to the unhappy well, fills his stoup, and sets it down to look at a parcel of boys playing at cat and dog, they persuaded John to take a game wi’ them, on he plays, till ane o’ the boys cries, Hey John, yonders your Girzy coming. John runs into the house wi’ the water, and the pat being red-hot on the fire, he tumes in the cauld water into it, which made the pat flee all in pieces, just as she was entering the door. John runs for it, and she runs after him, crying catch the thief, some persons stopped him; she comes up, and then she laboured him all the way hame, and he crying, “O Sirs, ye see what it is to be married!” The mither-in-law had to make up peace again, and he promised good behaviour in time to come.

MISFORTUNE V.

On the next morning she sent him to the water to wash some cow’s puddings and turn them on a spindle, showing him how he was to do or he went away. John goes to the water very willingly, and as he turned and washed them, he laid them down behind him, where one of his father-in-law’s big dogs stood, and ate them up as fast as he laid them down, till all was gone but the very last ane, which he carried hame in his hand, crying like a child, and underwent a severe tost of the old plaister before any mercy was shown.

MISFORTUNE VI.

His father-in-law, next day, sent him away to bring home a fat calf he had bought in the country, and tied up the money in a napkin, which he carried in his hand for fear he should lose it. Being very weighty, as it was all in half-pence, and as he was going alongst a bridge, he meets a man running after a horse, who cries to John to stop the horse; John meets him on the top of the bridge, and when he would not be stopped for him, he knocks the horse on the face with the napkin and the money, so the napkin rave, and most of the half-pence flew over the bridge in the water, which made poor John go home crying very bitterly for his loss, and dread of the old plaister, which he got very sickerly.

MISFORTUNE VII.

On the next morning, she sent him again to the bridge, to see if he could find any of it in the water, and there he found some ducks swimming, and ducking down with their heads below the water, as he thought, gathering up his money, he kills one of them, and rips her up, but found none of it in her guts or gabbie; then says he, they have been but looking for it, I’ll go do as they did, strips off his clothes and leaves them on the bridge, goes in a ducking, in which time, a ragman came past, and took away all his clothes. So he went home naked to get a bath of the old plaister.

MISFORTUNE VIII.

The next morning, she sent him to a farm-house for a pigful of buttermilk, and as he was returning through the fields, the farmer’s bull and another bull were fighting; the farmer’s bull being like to loss, John runs in behind him, and sets his head to the bull’s tail, on purpose to help him to push against the other; but the poor bull thought John was some other bull attacking him behind, fled aside, and the other bull came full drive upon John, pushed him down, broke the pig, and spilt the milk. So John went home to get his auld plaister, which began to be a usual diet to him, and so he regarded it the less.

MISFORTUNE IX.

His mother-in-law, with several auld witty wives, held a private council on John’s conduct, and bad luck, and concluded he was bewitched. John was of the same opinion, and went to the Minister, and told him he was the cause of a’ his misfortunes, ca’d him a warlock to his face, and said, he had put such a black bargain into his hand, that he was ruined for ever; insisted either to unmarry them again, or send death and the bellman to take her awa, for she has a lump of mischief on her back and anither on her breast, and the rest of her body is a clean de’il. The Minister began to exhort him to peace and patience, telling him that marriages were made in heaven: “ye’re a baist liar,” says John, “for I was married in your ain kitchen, and a’ the blackguards in the town were there, an it had a been a heaven they wadna win in, yet tell me that matrimony was sic a happy state, but had ye gotten as mony weel pay’d skins as I hae gotten, ye wad a kend what it was; ill chance on you, sir;” and out he goes cursing like a madman, throwing stanes and breaking the Minister’s windows for which he was caught and put twa hours in the stocks, and at last his lump of corruption came and rubbed his lugs, drew his nose, got him out, and drove him home before her, took a resolution never to set him about any business in time coming, but keep him on his loom.

MISFORTUNE X.

Now she gave him no sleep all that night for scolding. John got up in the morning lang or day, and left his Tormenter in bed, fell asleep upon his loom wi’ the candle in his hand, and so set the web, heddles, reed, and treadle cords in a fire. By chance his old Viper looked out of the bed, or the whole house had been gone. Up she gets, and with her cries alarmed the neighbourhood who came to her relief; but poor John underwent a dreadful swabbing for this.

MISFORTUNE XI.

After the former hurry and beating being over, his work being stopt, he went to bed and slept a’ that day, and following night. On the next day, having nothing to do, she sent him in search of a hen’s nest, which had ta’en some by-place to lay her eggs in: so as poor John was in an auld kill searching a’ about the walls, the kill-ribs broke, and down he goes with a vengeance into the logie, cutted and bruised himself in a terrible manner; up he could not win, but had to creep out at the logie below, scarce able to get hame, his face and nose all running of blood. In this condition she pitied and lamented for him very much, tied his sores and laid him in bed; then sat down very kindly, saying, “My dear, and my lamb, do you think there is ony of your banes broken; and what part of you is sairest? And what will I get to do good?” “Oh!” said he, “Girzy, I’m a’ brizzled atween the feet.” “Are ye indeed?” quoth she, “then I wish ye had broken your neck, that I might a gotten anither, useless ae way, and useless mae ways, upo’ my word, ye’s no be here, gang whare ye like.”

MISFORTUNE XII.

Now, as poor John was turned out o’ doors next morning, to go awa’ hirpling on a staff; one came and told him his mother had died last night. Oh hoch! said John, and is my mither clean dead! O an she wad but look down through the lift, and see how I’m guided this morning, I’m sure she wad send death for me too. I’m out o’ a mither and out o’ a wife, out o’ my health and strength, and a’ my warklooms. His mother-in-law came and pleaded for him: Haud your tongue, mither, said Girzy, if ye kent what ail’d him ye wadna speak about him, he’s useless, no worth the keeping in a house, but to ca’ him to die like an auld beast at a dyke-side. Hout tout, co’ the auld wife, we’ll mak o’ him and he’ll mend again. So John got peace made up after a’, and he was easier mended than the burnt web; got all his treadles and warklooms set in order, the wife’s tongue excepted, which was made of wormwood, and the rest of her body of sea water, which is always in a continual tempest.

So John appeals to a Jedburgh Jury if it be not easier to deal wi’ fools than headstrong fashious fouks; owns he has but an empty skull, but his wicked wife wants wit to pour judgment into it, never tells him o’ danger till it comes upon him, for his mother said he was a biddable bairn, if ony body had been to learn him wit.

FINIS.

THE

MERRY TALES

OF THE

WISE MEN

OF

GOTHAM.

Of merry Books this is the chief,
’Twill make you laugh your fill.

GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE
BOOKSELLERS.

THE MERRY TALES OF THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM

TALE I.

There were two men of Gotham, and one of them was going to Nottingham market to buy sheep, and both met together on Nottingham bridge. Well met, said one to the other; whither are you going? said he that came from Nottingham. Marry, said he that was going thither, I am going to the market to buy sheep. Buy sheep! said the other, which way will you bring them home? Marry, said the other, I will bring them over this bridge. By Robin Hood, said he that came from Nottingham, but thou shalt not. By my maid Margery, said the other, but I will. You shall not, said the one. I will, said the other. Then they beat their staves one against the other, and then against the ground, as if a hundred sheep had been betwixt them. Hold there, said the one. Beware of my sheep leaping over the bridge, said the other. I care not, said the one. They shall all come this way, said the other. But they shall not, said the one. Then said the other, if thou makest much ado, I will put my finger in thy mouth. A turd thou wilt, said the other. And as they were in contention, another wise man that belonged to Gotham, came from the market with a sack of meal on his horse; and seeing his neighbours at strife about sheep and none betwixt them, said he, Ah fools! will you never learn wit! Then help me, continued he, to lay this sack upon my shoulder; they did so, and he went to the side of the bridge and shook out the meal into the river, saying, How much meal is there in my sack, neighbour? Marry, said one, there is none. Indeed, replied this wise man, even so much wit is there in your two heads to strive for that you have not. Now which was the wisest of these three, I leave thee to judge.

TALE II.

There was a man of Gotham that rode to the market with two bushels of wheat, and lest his horse should be damaged by carrying too great a burden he was determined to carry the corn himself, upon his own neck, and still kept riding upon his horse till he arrived at the end of his journey. I will leave you to judge which was the wisest, his horse or himself.

TALE III.

On a time the men of Gotham fain would have pinned in the cuckoo that she might sing all the year; and in the midst of the town they had a hedge made round in compass, and got a cuckoo and put her into it, and said, Sing here, and thou shalt lack neither meat nor drink all the year. The cuckoo, when she found herself encompassed by the hedge, flew away. A vengeance on her, said these wise men, we did not make our hedge high enough.

TALE IV.

There was a man of Gotham who went to Nottingham market to sell cheese; and going down the hill to Nottingham bridge, one of his cheeses fell out of his wallet and ran down the hill. Whoreson, said the man, can you run to the market alone? I’ll now send one after another. Then laying his wallet down, and taking out the cheeses, he tumbled them down the hill one after another. Some ran into one bush and some into another. He charged them, however, to meet him at the market place. The man went to the market to meet the cheeses, and staying till the market was almost over, then went and inquired of his neighbours if they saw his cheeses come to the market? Why, who should bring them? says one; Marry, themselves, said the fellow, they knew the way very well. A vengeance on them, they ran so fast, I was afraid they would run beyond the market; I am sure they are by this time as far as York. So he immediately rode to York, but was much disappointed. And to add to it, he never found nor heard of one of his cheeses.

TALE V.

A man of Gotham bought, at Nottingham market, a trevet of bar iron; and going home with it, his feet grew weary with the carriage. He set it down, and seeing it had three feet, said, Whoreson, thou hast three feet and I but two; thou shalt bear me home if thou wilt, so he set himself down upon it, and said to it, bear me as long as I have done thee, for if thou dost not thou shalt stand still for me. The man of Gotham saw his trevet would not move. Stand still said he, in the Mayor’s name, and follow me if thou wilt, and I can shew you the right way. When he went home, his wife asked where the trevet was? He said it had three legs, and he had but two, and he had taught him the ready way to his house, therefore he might come himself if he would. Where did you leave the trevet? said the woman. At Gotham bridge, said he. So she immediately ran and fetched the trevet herself; otherwise she must have lost it on account of her husband’s want of wit.

TALE VI.

A certain smith of Gotham had a large wasp’s nest in the straw at the end of the forge, and there coming one of his neighbours to have his horse shod, and the wasps being exceeding busy, the man was stung by one of them. The man, being grievously affronted, said, Are you worthy to keep a forge or not, to have men stung with these wasps? O neighbour, said the smith, be content, and I will put them from their nest presently. Immediately he took a coulter, and heated it red hot, and thurst it into the straw at the end of his forge, and set it on fire, and burnt it up. Then, said the smith, I told thee I’d fire them out of their nest.

TALE VII.

On Good Friday the men of Gotham consulted together what to do with their white herrings, sprats, and salt fish, and agreed, that all such fish should be cast into a pond or pool, in the midst of the town, that the number of them might increase the next year. Therefore every one that had any fish left, did cast them immediately into the pond. Then said one, I have gotten left so many red herrings. Well, said another, and I have left so many whitings. Another cried out, I have as yet gotten so many sprats left. And, said the last, I have gotten so many salt fishes, let them go together in the great pond, without any distinction, and we may be sure to fare like lords the next year. At the beginning of the next Lent, they immediately went about drawing the pond, imagining they should have the fish, but were much surprised to find nothing but a great eel. Ah! said they, a mischief on this eel, for he hath eaten up our fish. What must we do with him? said one; chop him in pieces, said another. Nay, not so, said another, but let us drown him. Be it accordingly so, replied they all. So they went immediately to another pond, and cast the eel into the water. Lay there, said these wise men, and shift for thyself, since you may not expect help from us. So they left the eel to be drowned.

TALE VIII.

On a time the men of Gotham had forgotten to pay their rents to their landlord; so one said the other, to-morrow must be pay-day, by whom can we send our money? So one said, I have this day taken a hare, and she may carry it, for she is very quick footed; be it so, replied the rest; she shall have a letter, and a purse to put our money in, and we can direct her the way. When the letter was written and the money put into a purse, they tied them about the hare’s neck, saying, You must first go to Loughborough, and then to Leicester, and at Newark is our landlord; then commend us to him, and there is his due. The hare, as soon as she got out of their hands, ran quite a contrary way.--Some said, Thou must first go to Loughborough; others said, Let the hare alone, for she can tell a nearer way than the best of us; let her go.

TALE IX.

A man of Gotham, that went mowing in the meadow, found a large grasshopper He instantly threw down his scythe, and ran home to his neighbour, and said that the devil was at work in the field, and was hopping among the grass. Then was every man ready with their clubs, staves, halberts, and other weapons, to kill the grasshopper. When they came to the place where the grasshopper was, said one to the other, let every man cross himself from the devil, for we will not meddle with him. So they returned again, and said, We are blest this day that we went no farther. O ye cowards! said he that left the scythe in the meadow, help me to fetch my scythe. No, answered they, it is good to sleep in a whole skin. It is much better for thee to lose thy scythe than to mar us all.

TALE X.

On a certain time there were twelve men of Gotham that went to fish; some waded in the water, and some stood on dry land. In going home, one said to the other, we have ventured wonderfully in wading, I pray God that none of us did come from home to be drowned. Nay, marry, said one to the other, let us see that, for there did twelve of us come out. Then they told themselves, and every one told eleven. Said the one to the other, there is one of us drowned. They then went back to the brook, where they’d been fishing, and sought up and down for him that was drowned, making great lamentation. A courtier coming by, asked what it was they sought for, and why they were sorrowful. Oh, said they, this day we went to fish in the brook; twelve of us came out together, and one is drowned. The courtier said, tell how many there be of you. One of them told eleven, but he did not tell himself. Well, said the courtier, what will you give me, and I will find the twelfth man? All the money we have got, said they. Give me the money, said he. He began with the first, and gave him a stroke over the shoulders with his whip, that made him groan, saying, here is one, and so he served them all, and they groaned at the matter. When he came to the last, he paid him well, saying, here is the twelfth man. God’s blessings on thee said they, for finding our brother.

TALE XI.

A man of Gotham, riding along the highway, saw a cheese, so drew his sword and pricked it with the point, in order to pick it up. Another man who came by, alighted, picked it up, and rode away with it. The man of Gotham rides to Nottingham to buy a long sword to pick up the cheese, and returning to the place where it did lie, he pulled out his sword, pricked the ground, and said, if I had had but this sword I should have had the cheese myself, but now another has come before me and got it.

TALE XII.

A man in Gotham, that did not love his wife, and she having fair hair, he said divers times he would cut it off, but durst not do it when she was awake, so he resolved to do it when she was asleep; therefore, one night he took a pair of shears and put them under his pillow, which his wife perceiving, said to her maid, go to bed to my husband, to-night, for he intends to cut off my hair; let him cut off thy hair, and I will give thee as good a kirtle as ever thou didst see. The maid did so, and feigned herself asleep, which the man perceiving, cut off her hair, wrapped it about the shears, and, laying them under the pillow, fell asleep. The maid arose, and the wife took the hair and shears, and went to the hall and burnt the hair. The man had a fine horse that he loved, and the goodwife went into the stable, cut off the hair of the horse’s tail, wrapped the shears up in it, and laid them under the pillow again.--Her husband, seeing her combing her head in the morning, marvelled thereat. The girl, seeing her master in a deep study, said, What ails the horse in the stable, he has lost his tail? The man ran into the stable, and found the horse’s tail was cut off; then going to the bed, he found the shears wrapped up in his horse’s tail. He then went to his wife, saying, I crave thy mercy, for I intended to cut off thy hair, but I have cut off my own horse’s tail. Yea, said she, self do self have. Many men think to do a bad turn, but it turneth oft times to themselves.

TALE XIII.

A man of Gotham laid his wife a wager that she could not make him a cuckold. No! said she, but I can. Do not spare me, said he, but do what you can. On a time she had hid all the spigots and faucets, and going into the buttery, set a barrel of broach, and cried to her spouse, Pray, bring me a spigot and faucet, or else the ale will all run out. He sought up and down, but could not find one. Come here then, said she, and put thy finger in the tap-hole. Then she called a tailor with whom she made a bargain. Soon after she came to her husband, and brought a spigot and a faucet, saying, Pull thy finger out of the tap-hole, good cuckold. Beshrew your heart for your trouble, said she, make no such bargain with me again.

TALE XIV.

A man of Gotham took a young buzzard, and invited four or five gentlemen’s servants to the eating of it; but the wife killed an old goose, and she and two of her gossips ate up the buzzard, and the old goose was laid to the fire for the gentlemen’s servants. So when they came the goose was set before them. What is this? said one of them. The goodman said, a curious buzzard. A buzzard! why, it is an old goose, and thou art a knave to mock us, and so departed in great anger. The fellow was sorry that he had affronted them, and took a bag and put the buzzard’s feathers in it; but his wife desired him, before he went, to fetch a block of wood, and in the interim she pulled out the buzzard’s feathers, and put in the goose’s. The man, taking the bag, went to the gentlemen’s servants, and said, Pray, be not angry with me, you shall see I had a buzzard, for here be the feathers. Then he opened the bag, and took out the goose’s feathers; upon which one of them took a cudgel, and gave him a dozen of stripes, saying, Why, you knave, could you not be content to mock us at home, but you are come here to mock us also.

TALE XV.

A man’s wife of Gotham was brought to bed of a male child, and the father invited the gossips, who were children of eight or ten years of age. The eldest child’s name was Gilbert, the second’s name was Humphrey, and the godmother was called Christabel. Their relations admonished them divers times, that they must all say after the parson. And when they were come to church, the priest said, Be you all agreed of the name? Gilbert, Humphrey, and Christabel, said the same. The priest then said, Wherefore came you hither? They immediately said the same. The priest being amazed, could not tell what to say, but whistled and said Whey, and so did they. The priest being angry, said, Go home, you fools, go home. Then Gilbert, Humphrey, and Christabel, did the same. The priest then provided god-fathers and god-mothers himself.

TALE XVI.

A young man of Gotham went a wooing a fair maid: his mother warned him before-hand, saying, whenever you look at her, cast a sheep’s eye at her, and say, How dost thou my sweet Pigmy? The fellow went to a butcher and bought seven or eight sheep eyes. And when this lusty wooer was at dinner, he would look upon the fair wench, and cast in her face a sheep’s eye, saying, How dost thou do, my sweet Pigmy? How I do, said the wench; Swine’s face, what do you mean by casting a sheep’s eye at me? O! sweet Pigmy have at thee with another. I defy thee Swine’s face, said the wench, What my sweet old Pigmy, be content, for if you live till next year you will be a foul sow. Walk, knave, walk, said she, for if you live till next year you will be a fool.

TALE XVII.