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Updated: May 31, 2025
"I can gi'e ye fowerpence o' coppers, if that's ony use to ye," said Stumpie Mertin, shuvin' his airm up to the elba in his breeks pooch. There was a burst o' lauchin' at this, an' Sandy says, pointin' wi' his thoom ower his shuder, "Less noise, you lads, for fear her nabs hears us." He little thocht that her nabs that was me, of coorse was at the winda hearin' every wird.
Stumpie's an awfu' peppery budy, an' though the Smith leuch when he made his joke at the tailor's precentin', Mertin got as raised as a wasp, and he yattered back "You'll maybe be better aff i' the ither place, wi' your auld horse shune an' your smiddy reek, ye auld acowder " "Toot, toot, Mertin; dinna get angry," says the Smith. "It was but a joke, man.
"Noo," says Bandy, "we'll touch his lauchin' bump"; an' he gae Sandy a stob aboot the heid wi' his finger, an' Sandy set to the lauchin', ye never heard the like. "Stop him, Bandy," says Stumpie Mertin, gey excited, "or he'll lauch his henderend." "Peece, vile slave, or I'll dekappytate ye wi' my skittimir," says Sandy, glowerin' at Stumpie.
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