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"An' he has an auld hewk in his hand, an' I saw the sparks o' feyre fleein' frae his tail. An' there's aboot sixteen hunder ither deevils at his heels." On floo Pottie yalpin' "Pileece," "Murder," "Help," wi' Sandy at his tails, an' the ither half-dizzen followin' up, pechin' like cadgers' pownies. Pottie gaed clash into Stumpie Mertin's coal cellar, an' lockit the door i' the inside.
I didna ken whuther to flee up the yaird, roar oot "feyre," or clim' up on the dyke an' gie them a wallop roond the linders wi' my bits o' cloots. So I stud still. The fient a ane o' them ever thocht there was a livin' sowl within fifty yairds o' them, an' they were crackin' an' kirrooin' awa' like a pair o' doos. "Isn't a peety they dinna ca' me Izik?" says Jeems.
And also this Flom Jordan departeth the lond of Galilee, and the lond of Ydumye and the lond of Betron: and that rennethe undre erthe a grete weye, unto a fayre playn and a gret, that is clept Meldan, in Sarmoyz; that is to seye, feyre or markett in here langage; be cause that there is often feyres in that pleyn. And there becomethe the watre gret and large. And that playn is the tombe of Job.
Sandy bloo oot the can'le; an' by a' the how-d'ye-does ever was heard tell o', you niver heard the marrow o' yon. Stumpie Mertin roared "Order! Feyre!" at the pitch o' his voice; an' the chairman was yowlin', "For ony sake, gie's a grip o' some o' your hands till I get oot o' this draw-wall, or I'm a deid man."
The English and Scotch ballads were narrative songs, written in a variety of meters, but chiefly in what is known as the ballad stanza. In somer, when the shawes be shene, And leves be large and longe, Hit is full merry in feyre forést, To here the foulys song. To se the dere draw to the dale, And leve the hillës hee, And shadow them in the levës grene, Under the grene-wode tree.
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