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Before the rumbling echoes had died away a hollow-voiced owl began to hoot in philosophical tranquillity from near the edge of the new talus as if nothing extraordinary had occurred, although, perhaps, he was curious to know what all the noise was about. His "hoot-too-hoot-too-whoo" might have meant, "what's a' the steer, kimmer?" It was long before the Valley found perfect rest.
"I don't understand you." "I mean she was couthie, but no sair in order." "What on earth is that?" "Weel, a tasty stocky, but gey orra put on." "What language are you speaking, you enigma?" "I'm saying she was naturally a bonny bit kimmer rather than happit up to the nines."
And touching this lost lad, ye all ken his mother was a hawk of an uncanny nest, a second cousin of Kate Kimmer, of Barfloshan, as rank a witch as ever rode on ragwort. Ay, sirs, what's bred in the bone is ill to come out of the flesh.
Blanchflower's girl could work musical miracles. They clamoured until the singer came forward and sang them, "What's a the steer, Kimmer?" and she finished the song with triumphant archness.
There has been a lusty, good-looking kimmer, of some forty, or bygane, making mony speerings about you, my lord." "Well, sir, what did she want with me?" said Lord Nigel. "At first, my lord," replied his sapient follower, "as she seemed to be a well-fashioned woman, and to take pleasure in sensible company, I was no way reluctant to admit her to my conversation."
And now let's hear what thir chamber chiels o' yours hae to say for themselves, or how, in the name of unrule, they got here at this time o' night." Hame came our gudeman at e'en, And hame came he, And there he saw a man Where a man suldna be. "How's this now, kimmer? How's this?" quo he, "How came this carle here Without the leave o' me?" Old Song.
And I noticed that quite a formidable proportion of them were Jacobite tunes; that is, tunes that had been primarily meant to keep George V out of his throne for ever. Some of the real airs of the old Scottish rebellion were played, such as "Charlie is My Darling," or "What's a' the steer, kimmer?" songs that men had sung while marching to destroy and drive out the monarchy under which we live.
"I assure ye!" said Hookey. "Sal," said Hendry, even more charmed, "Dite's done weel." "Lat's see her in a better licht," said Tammas. He stood up and examined the photograph narrowly, while Pete fidgeted with his legs. "Fairish," said Tammas at last. "Ou, ay; no what I would selec' mysel, but a dainty bit stocky! Ou, a tasty crittury! ay, an' she's weel in order. Lads, she's a fine stoot kimmer."
And now let's hear what thir chamber chiels o' yours hae to say for themselves, or how, in the name of unrule, they got here at this time o' night." Hame came our gudeman at e'en, And hame came he, And there he saw a man Where a man suldna be. "How's this now, kimmer? How's this?" quo he, "How came this carle here Without the leave o' me?" Old Song.
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