Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
"Ay weel, Sandy," says I, "gin ye get on wi' your magic lantern as weel's ye generally manish wi' the washin' machine, when I'm needin' a hand o' ye, I'll swag Dauvid's bairns 'ill no' be lang keepit." "Tach, Bawbie, you're aye takin' fowk aff wi' your impidence," says Sandy, gey ill-natured like. But Dauvid an' Bandy juist took a bit lauch at him.
Puir lassie, it's lat me see; ay, it's twal' 'ear come Mertimas sin' she was taen awa'. Ay, man; an' she taen mair o' my heart wi' her in her bit coffinie than she left ahent her. A bonnie bit lassie she was, Bawbie, as ye'll mind.
"Say Mistress Blair, ye ill-mennered whaup atyar," says I in his lug; an' he gleyed roond at me, an' says, wi' anither o' his vegabon'-like winks, "Ay; that's Wattie Scott's monniment, Bawbie. A great man, Wattie! It was him 'at wret Bailie Nickil Jarvie an' the Reed Gauntlet an' so on. He bade a fortnicht wi' Luckie Walker at Auchmithie.
"A' richt than, Bawbie; I'll do that," says I. "Noo, juist try an' get a sleep for a whilie, an' I'll go ben to the shop dask an' write a scrift for you." So noo when I have the chance, I'll better juist mention that Bawbie got terriple seek i' the forenicht yesterday, an' she hardly ever steekit an e'e a' lest nicht.
"Alick Bowden," says I an' my very hert was greit "Alick Bowden" I aye ca' him Alick when I'm angry "this maun be the end o't. I canna thole nae mair." "For ony sake, Bawbie," he brook in, "dinna say naething the nicht, or I'll pushon or droon mysel'. I wiss I had been smored amo' thae eggs"; an' doon the stair he gaed, wi' his breeks in his oxter.
I wudda gien a pound note juist to gotten a richt straucht-forrit fecht amon' them for half an 'oor." "You're juist like a muckle bubbly laddie, Sandy," says I. "It's a winder you wasna awa' up the toon wi' them to see if ony o' the sojers wud lat you cairry hame their gun. I raley winder to see an auld tattie man like you goin' on like some roid loon." "That's a' you ken, Bawbie," says he.
The wind was tearin' an' rivin' at the ruif at this time something terriple. "We'll go doon the stair, Sandy," says I; an' I made for the door. "For ony sake, Bawbie," roared Sandy oot o' the bed, "wait till I get on my breeks. If ye lave me, I'll g'wa' in a fit as shore's ocht."
I says, says I, juist to stop them yabblin' aboot politicks, an' a' the like o' that nonsense on Sabbath nicht. "He had twa texts the nicht, Bawbie," said the Gairner.
Ye micht get Mistress Kenawee to look efter the shop for an 'oor or twa, an' come ootbye, Bawbie." Ay, weel, to mak' a lang story short, Sandy an' me got ootbye to the Wast Common on Setarday efternune; an' awa we gaed up to a corner o' the Common whaur there was aboot a hunder loons gaithered. The loonie that they ca'd the captain cam' forrit.
"That's mair than I can tell, Bawbie; but I'll rin doon for the mistress, an' she'll look efter the shop till we gae oot the Sands an' see if we can fa' in wi' him," said Dauvid. Dauvid gaed awa' for Mistress Kenawee, an' I ran up the stair to the garret to throw on my bonnet, takin' Sandy's claes wi' me.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking