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"It willna be amiss ye should ken," said Cuddie to his master, "that this Jenny this Mrs Dennison, was trying to cuittle favour wi' Tam Rand, the miller's man, to win into Lord Evandale's room without ony body kennin'. She wasna thinking, the gipsy, that I was at her elbow."
Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called a d d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper of Cupar; and, without wasting more time, struck up, It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed, And o'er the bent of Killiebraid, And mony a weary cast I made, To cuittle the moor-fowl's tail.
Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called a d d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper of Cupar; and, without wasting more time, struck up, It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed, And o'er the bent of Killiebraid, And mony a weary cast I made, To cuittle the moor-fowl's tail.
CRAME, a booth, a merchant's shop. CREAGH, an incursion for plunder, termed on the Borders a raid. CROUSE, bold, courageous. CRUMMY, a cow with crooked horns. CUITTLE, tickle. CURRAGH, a Highland boat. DAFT, mad, foolish. DEBINDED, bound down. DECREET, an order of decree. DEOCH AN DORUIS, the stirrup-cup or parting drink. DERN, concealed, secret. DINMONTS, wethers in the second year.
"It willna be amiss ye should ken," said Cuddie to his master, "that this Jenny this Mrs Dennison, was trying to cuittle favour wi' Tam Rand, the miller's man, to win into Lord Evandale's room without ony body kennin'. She wasna thinking, the gipsy, that I was at her elbow."
Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called a d d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper of Cupar; and, without wasting more time, struck up, It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed, And o'er the bent of Killiebraid, And mony a weary cast I made, To cuittle the moor-fowl's tail.
Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called a d d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper of Cupar; and, without wasting more time, struck up, It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed, And o'er the bent of Killiebraid, And mony a weary cast I made, To cuittle the muirfowl's tail.
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