THE
GOOD-MAN of AUCHTER MUCHTY;
OR
The WIFE turned GOOD-MAN.
GIVING
A merry ACCOUNT how the GOOD-MAN was fitted to his Mind.
Tune of, Pultring Poverty,
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IN Auchtermuchty lived a Man,
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If all be true that I heard say.
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Who yok'd his Pleugh upon the Plain,
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Upon a wet and windy Day.
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The wind blew cald which made him stay,
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From the North-east, baith Hail and Rain,
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He lous'd his Pleugh he dought not stay;
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The Cald did chase him Hame again.
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Goodwife, quoth he, rise up amain,
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And give the Stots both Corn and Hay,
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The morn ye shall my trouble ken;
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And I'll be Good wife as I may.
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Ye've dwelt so lown this mony Day,
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About the Fire ye sit right glad,
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To-morrow ye shall try the Way,
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And learn yourself the Pleugh to had.
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This Seed Time it proves cald and bad,
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And ye sit warm no Troubles sees,
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The Morn ye shall pass with the Lad,
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And then ye'll ken what Drinkers drees.
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Good-man, quoth she, if it you please,
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That I must travel to the Pleugh,
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And you to dwell at Hame at Ease,
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Perhaps you may get Toil enough
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Jack, dare we venture west the Cleugh,
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And thou shalt had, and I shall ca,
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I shall reward thee well enough,
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Of fine Gravats I'll give the twa.
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Good-man, since you have made this Law,
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Then guide a' well and don't break,
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They rode safe that did ne'er fa
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Therefore let naithing be neglect.
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Since with my trade ye are affected,
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See first ye sift, and then ye kned,
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Let all Things rightly be directed,
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Keep all the Gaislings frae the Gled.
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And see the Bairns fyle not the Bed,
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And kirn the Kirn, and mak the Cheese,
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And if you occupy your Trade
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I trow you shall find little Ease.
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She sat up late her mind to please,
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For to her Trade she had a Care;
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She kirn'd the Kirn, she bor'd his Neese,
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No Rigmari she left him there.
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Upon the Morn she raise up air,
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And on her Liver laid her disjoon;
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As meikle in her Lap and mair,
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As wad have serv'd four Men at Noon.
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Then on she goes with merry Tone,
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Away with Jack to yoke the Pleugh,
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I trow e'er all the Play be plaid,
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O our Good-man will get Toil enough
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The Carling she was strong and teugh,
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And of her Trade she took no Fear;
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But from a Tree she pull'd a Beugh,
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And stoutly made the Stots to steer.
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Then our Good-man when Time drew near,
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Got up for to go try the Spinning,
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His Spindle fell, all run a Rear,
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Alas! he got an ill Beginning.
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I wat na whether Yearn or Linning,
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Was on the Rock, or Lint, or Tow,
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But round about the Fire Spinning,
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I wat his Rock's Head took a Low;
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And up into the Lumb did flow,
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The Soot took Fire, it fleed him then,
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Some Lumps did fa' and burnt his Pow,
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I wat he was a dririe Man.
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Yet he got Water in a Pan,
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Wherewith he slocked out the Fire,
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To sweep the House he then began,
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To had a' right was his Desire.
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He fetch'd the Kirn ben from the Byre,
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Whereat he wrought until he swat,
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But should he plunge until he tyre,
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He little or no butter gat.
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Then on the Fire he hung the Pot,
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And with twa Stoups ran to the Spout
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Or ever he came back I wat,
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The new Pot Bottom was brunt out.
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Next all the Bairns rair'd in a Rour,
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He thought to catch them all up clean,
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The first he got his Arms about,
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Was all bedirten to the Een.
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Alas! quoth he, what did I mean,
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At first to take this Work in Hand?
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I think I have bewitched been;
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Then fyl'd the Blankets all he fand.
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Then forth to wash them in the Strand,
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And for to poss them on a Stane,
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A Rush of Flood came from the Land,
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And down the Water hath them tane.
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By that Time Kine and Calves ilk ane,
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Did meeet, the Good-man ran to red,
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The Brandit Cow, Thief break her Bane;
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Did bore his Buttocks till they bled.
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I trow he thought he was ill sted,
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The Gaislings wander'd far awa
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And by then came the gready Gled,
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She took up three and left but twa'.
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These poor Beasts paid the Skaith for a',
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The Sow he gave her little Thank,
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Drew o'er the Kirn with her fore Pa,
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And ay she winked, and ay she drank.
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He took the Kirn staff by the Shank,
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Wherewith to reach the Sow a Rout,
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The twa poor Gaislings got a Clank,
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For their Brains he chapped out.
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Then pull he th' old Sow by the Snout,
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And with the Kirn Staff on the Back;
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He did her hit a right sound Rour,
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o'er her Ribs the Shank plaid Crack.
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Had you been there to see the Knack.
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You would have laugh'd to seen the Sport,
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The Sow his Fingers gave a Snack,
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With her sharp Tusks she made them short.
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Then he began to rove a Thort,
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For of his Trade he then did tyre,
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Great Bearings to the Kiln did sort,
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While all the Ribs were on a Fire.
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Up through the Corn it did aspire,
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And to the Roof it took the Way,
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Wa's me, quoth he, a dear Kiln here
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Alas! that e'er I saw this Day.
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For I was never at sie a Fray,
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Since first my Dame did rock my Head;
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For every Thing doth gang astray,
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I think there shall be no Remeed.
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But all shall turn to Wreck indeed,
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I wish I had my Pleugh Stilts keeped;
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Let never better come of Fead,
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With that he sat him down and weeped.
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And o'er his Cheeks the Tears they creeped,
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Which oft he dighted with a Clout:
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Then on the Dyke-head he leaped,
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And on his Wife gave many a Shout:
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Who did steer her Stots about,
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And for her Husband took no Care,
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But at him did both laugh and flout,
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Indeed she thought the Sport was rare.
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While the poor man was in Despair,
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Not knowing what to say or do;
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For every Thing did backward fair,
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That he put his Hand unto.
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But yet at Length it chanced so
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The Pleugh did loose, the wife came Hame,
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The Good man said, your welcome Jo
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For of my Trade I think great Shame.
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Your Occupation take my Dame;
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Quoth she, Good-man well may you bruik,
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What is the Cause your hand is lame,
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Quoth he, the Sow, Mischief her choak.
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Did get it in her Teeth and shoak;
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And eke the meikle branded Cow,
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Into my Breech her Horns did yoak,
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And's made my buttocks sair I trow,
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And now this Charge I'll quit to you,
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All Controversies let be ended,
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Both Corn and Kiln is quite burnt throw,
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What miss is done none can be mended.
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Therefore my Dear be not offended,
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But take your Charge, and I'll take mine,
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I wish that I had quite miskend it,
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For now I dree, both shame and pine.
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Quoth she. Good-man the fault was thine,
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You took my Trade against my Will,
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Now after this do not repine,
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But occupy your own with Skill.
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Since of my Place you have your Fill,
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Then do not boast I live at Ease,
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When forth you walk the Pleugh until,
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For now you know what Drinkers drees.
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Gae fetch me Butter, Milk and Cheese,
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And let us eat, and drink, and 'gree.
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Indeed Good-wife, if it you please,
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The ne'er a Crumb the Sow left me.
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Good-man, quoth she, how may this be,
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That everything is gone arrear.
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Good-wife walk in and out, and see,
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And then you will have Cause to spear.
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Quoth she, Good-man, indeed I fear.
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If you should occupy this Trade,
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Within a Quarter of a Year,
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Our House would come to a short Stead.
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Now when you have these Lines all read,
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And of the Writer you have Skill,
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From the highway you need not speed,
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But speir for Lady Anns new Mile.
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