COLLECTED WRITINGS OF DOUGAL GRAHAM.

Portrait of Dougal Graham

From Early Chap Book.

Frontispiece to Vol. II.

THE

COLLECTED WRITINGS

OF

Dougal Graham

‘Skellat’ Bellman of Glasgow

EDITED WITH NOTES

Together with a Biographical and Bibliographical Introduction, and a Sketch of the Chap Literature of Scotland

BY

GEORGE MAC GREGOR

Author of ‘The History of Glasgow’ and Member of the Glasgow Archæological Society

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. II.

For Subscribers and Private Circulation

GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORISON

MDCCCLXXXIII

[5]

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.

[7]

JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S COURTSHIP.

[8]

[This chap-book was one of the most popular of Graham’s productions. It is reprinted here from a unique copy formerly belonging the late Dr. David Laing, and now in the possession of George Gray, Esq. It is in five parts. The title-page bears that it had been ‘carefully corrected and revised by the Author.’ It was printed in 1779 by J. and J. Robertson, Glasgow, and is perhaps the earliest copy extant.]

[9]

JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S COURTSHIP AS THEY WERE COMING FROM THE MARKET.

Part I.

Jockey. Hey Maggy, wilt thou stay and tak kent fouks hame wi’ ye the night?

Maggy. Wiltu come awa than Johny. I fain wad be hame or the ky come in, our meikle Riggy is sic a rumbling royte, she rins ay thro’ the byre, and sticks a’ the bits a couties; my mither is nae able to had her up to her ain stake.

Jockey. Hute, we’ll be hame in bra’ time woman: and how’s a’ your fouks at hame?

Maggy. Indeed I canna well tell you man, our guidame is a’ gane wi’ the gut; my mither is very frail, my father he’s ay wandering about, and widdling amang the beasts.

Jockey. But dear Maggy they tell me we’re gawn to get a wedding of thee and Andrew Merrymouth the laird’s gardener.

Maggy. Na, na, he maun hae a brawer lass to be his wife than the like o’ me, but auld Tammy Tailtrees was seeking me, my father wad a haen me to tak him, but my mither wadna let, there was an odd debate about it, my guidame wad a sticket my mither wi’ the grape, if my father hadna chanc’d to founder her wi’ the beetle.

Jockey. Hech woman, I think your father was a fool for fashing wi’ him, auld slavery dufe, he wants naething of a cow but the clutes, your guidame may tak him hersel, twa auld tottering stumps, the tane may sair the tither fu’ well.

Maggy. Ach man! I wad a tane thee or ony body to hane them greed again, my father bled my guidame’s nose, and my guidame brake my mithers thumb; the neighbours came a’ rinning in, but I had the luck to haud my father’s hands till[10] yence my guidame plotted him wi’ the broe that was to mak our brose.

Jockey. Dear Maggy, I hae something to tell you an ye wadna be angry at it?

Maggy. O Johnny, there’s my hand I’se no be angry at it, be what it will.

[Shakes hands for fear of an outcast.][1]

Jockey. Indeed Maggy the fouk of your town and the fouk of our town, says, we are gawn to be married: What say’st thou?

Maggy. I wish we ne’er do war, O Johny, I dream’d o’ you lang syne, an I liket you ay after that.

Jockey. O Maggy! Maggy! dost thou mind since I came to your mither’s bill, wi’ my mither’s cow, ye ken she wadna stand, and ye helped me to haud her; ay after that they scorned me that I wad be married on a you.

Maggy. It’s very true man, it’ll be an odd thing an it be; but it’s no fa’ back at my door, I assure ye.

Jockey. Nor at mine, but my mither bad me kiss ye.

Maggy. Indeed sall ye Johny, thou’s no want twa kisses man, ane on every side o’ the mouth, man.

Jockey. Ha! ha! Maggy, I’ll hae a merry night o’ kissing you shortly.

Maggy. Ay but Johny, you maun stay till that night come: it’s best to keep the feast until the feast day.

Jockey. Dinna be angry Maggy, my wife to be, but I have heard my mither saying in her daffing that fouk sud ay try gin their house will haud their plenishin.

Maggy. Ay but Johny, a wife is ae thing, an a house anither, a man that’s a mind to marry a woman he’ll no mak her a whore.

[11]

Jockey. It’s a’ true Maggy, but fouks may do it yence or they be married and no hae nae ill in their minds.

Maggy. Aha Johny, mony a are has been beguil’d wi’ yence, and do it yence ye may do it ay, what an we get a bystart, and hae to suffer for the foul act of fornication.

Jockey. Ay but my mither says, if I dinna get thee wi’ bairn, I’ll no get thee; so it’s the surest way of wooing.

Maggy. Indeed Johny I like you better nor ony lad I see, and I sall marry you an yence my father’s muck were out, my mither downa wirk at the midden.

Jockey. A Maggy, Maggy, I’m fear’d ye beguile me, an then my mither will murder me for being so silly.

Maggy. My jo Jockey, tell your mither to provide a’ things for the bridal, and I sal marry you in three uks after this, but we maun gie in siller to the Precentor, a groat an a drink to the bellman, and then the Kirk wa’s maun hear o’t, three sunday’s or it come.[2]

Jockey. But Maggy am no to make a blin bargain wi’ you nor nae body, I maun ken o’ your things an ye sall ken o’ mine.

Maggy. I ken well what I was to get, an gin my mither like the bargain well, she’ll make it better; but an my father be angry at the match, I darna meet you to be married.

Jockey. I see na how he can be angry. I wat well I’m a gay sturdy fallow, when I laid on a bow and five pecks o’ bear on the laird’s Bawsey, an he’s as bilchy a beast as in a’ the barronry.

Maggy. Ay but my mither is aye angry at ony body that evens themselves to me, an it binna them she likes, indeed she bad me tak ony body if it were na auld tottering Tammie, for his beard is ay brown wi’ sucking tobacco, and slavers a’ the breast o’ his fecket.

[12]

Jockey. O! Maggy tak me an I’ll tell you what I hae; first my father left me when he died, fifty merks, twa sacks, twa pair of sunks, the hens, an the gawn gear was to be divided between me and my mither, and if she died first, a’ her gear was to come amang mine, and if I died before her, a’ my gear was to come back to her again, an her to marry anither man if she cou’d get him. But since it’s happened sae, she is to gie me Brucky an the black mare, the haf o’ the cogs, three spoons, four pair o’ blankets an a can’as, she’s to big a twa bey to her ain gavel to be a dwelling house to me an my wife, am to get the wee byre at the end o’ the raw to haud my cow and twa couties; the haf o’ the barn an a bed o’ the kailyard as lang as she lives, an when she dies am to pay the earding o’ her honestly, and a’ the o’ercome is to be my ain: an by that time I’ll be as rich as e’er my father was before me.

Maggy. Truly Johny, I’se no say meikle to the contrair, but an ye hae a mind to tak me wi’ what I hae, tell me either now or never, for I’se be married or lang gae.

Jockey. I wat weel I am courting in earnest, tell me what you hae, an we’ll say nae mair but marry ither.

Maggy. I’se tell you a’ I ken o’, whate’er my guidame gies ye’s get it.

Jockey. That’s right, I want nae mair, it’s an unko thing to marry a naket woman and get naething but twa bair legs.

Maggy. O Johny ye’re ay in the right o’t, for mony ane is beguil’d and gets naething, but my father is to gie me forty pund Scots, that night I am married, a lade of meal, a furlet of groats, auld Crummie is mine since she was a cauf, and now she has a stirk will tak the bill e’er beltan yet, I hae twa stane o’ good lint, and three pockfu’s o’ tow a good cauf bed, twa bowsters and three cods, with three pair o’ blankets, an’ a covering; forby twa pair to spin, but my mither wadna gie me crish to them, an ye ken the butter is dear now.[3]

[13]

Jockey. Then farewel the night Maggy; the best o’ friends maun part, and so maun thy twa legs yet.

Maggy. I wish you well, Johny, but sae nae mair till we be married, and then lad.

Hame gaed Maggy and tell’d her Mither.

Mag. O mither! I hae something to tell ye, but ye mauna tell my father.

Mither. Dear Maggy an what is that!

Mag. Deed Mither, am gawn to be married an’ the muck were out.

Mith. Dear Maggy an wha’s thou gawn to get, it’s no auld bubly Tammy.

Mag. Na, na, he’s a bra young man, and has mair gear nor ilka body kens o’, guess an I’ll tell you, it’s Johny Bell, and his mither sent him to the market just to court me.

Mith. Deed Maggy ye’ll no be ill youket wi’ him, he’s a gay we’ll gawn fallow, right spruch, amaist like an ill-far’d gentleman. Hey guidman, do ye hear that our Maggy is gawn to be married an the muck were out.

Father. Na, na, I’ll no allow that until the peats be cussen and hurl’d.

Mag. O father it’s dangerous to delay the like o’ that, I like him, an he likes me, it’s best to strike the iron whan it’s het.

Fath. An wha is she gawn to get guidwife?

Mith. An wha think ye guidman?

Fath. A what wat I herie, an she please hersel, am pleas’d already.

Mith. Indeed she’s gawn to get Johny Bell, as cliver a little fallow, as in a the barronry where he bides.

Fath. A well, a well herie, she’s yours as well as mine, gie her to wha ye please.

Mith. A well Maggy, I’se hae a’ things ready, an I’ll hae thee married or this month be done.

Mag. Thanks to ye Mither, mony a good turn ye done me, an this will be the best, I think.

Hame gaed Jockey to his mither, crying.

[14]

Jock. Mither! Mither! I made it out, her mouth is sweeter na milk, my heart plays a whiltie whaltie whan I kiss her.

Mith. Fair fa’ thee my son Johny, thou’s gotten the geat o’t at last, and whan is thou gawn to be married?

Jock. Whan I like mither, but get the masons the morn, to big me my house, for I’ll hae a’ my things in right good order.

Mith. Thou’s want for naething, my bairn, but pusht forward as fast as ye can.

The wooing being o’er and the day being set, Jockey’s mither killed the black boul horn’d yeal Ewe, that lost her lamb the last year, three hens and a gule fitted cock, to prevent the ripples, five pecks o’ maut masket in the meikle kirn, a pint o’ trykle to mak it thicker an sweeter an maumier for the mouth; five pints o’ whisky wherein was garlic and spice, for raising o’ the wind, an the clearing o’ their water; the friends and good neighbours went a’ wi’ John to the kirk, where Maggy chanced to meet him and was married by the minister; the twa companies joined togither and came hame in a croud, at every change house they chanced to pass by, providence stopt their proceeding, with full stoups, bottles and glasses drinking their healths, wishing them much joy, ten girls and a boy: Jockey seeing so many wishing well to his health, coupt up what he got, for to augment his health and gar him live long, which afterwards coupt up him and proved detrimental to the same.

So home they came to the dinner, where his mother presented to them a piping het haggies, made of the creish of the black boul horn’d Ewe, boil’d in the meikle bag, mixt with bear meal, onions, spice and mint: this haggis being supt warm, the foaming swats and spice in the liquor set John’s belly a bizin like a working fat, and he playing het fit to the fidler, was suddenly seized with a bocking and rebounding, gave his dinner such a backward ca that he lost a’ but the grit bits scythed through his teeth; his mother cried to spence him, and bed him wi’ the bride, his breeks being fill’d, they washed both his hips, laid him in his bed, pale and ghostly[15] was his face, and closed were baith his een, ah, cries his mither, a dismal day indeed, his brithal and his burial may baith be on ae day: some cuist water in his face, and jagg’d him wi’ a needle; till he began to rouze himself up, and rap out broken words, mither, mither, whar am I now? Whar are ye my bairn says his mither, ye’re beddet, and I’ll bring the

bride to you. Beddet, and is my brithel done ells? Ay, said she, here’s the bride come to ly down wi’ you: na, na, said he, I’ll no ly wi that unco woman indeed, if it binna heeds and thraws, the way that I lay wi’ my mither; O fy dinna affront yoursel. The bride faus a crying. O mither, mither, was this the way my father guided you the first night? Na, na, thy father was a man o’ manners and better mettle, poor thing Meg, thou’s caud thy hogs to a bonny market. A bonny market, says his mither, a shame fa you and her baith, he’s worthy o’ her tho’ she were better nor what she is, or e’er will be. His friends an her friends being a mixt multitude, some took his part some took her’s, there a battle began in the clap of a hand, being a very fierce tumult which ended in blood, they struck so hard with stones, sticks, beetles, and barrow trams, pigs, pots, stoups, trunchers, were flying like bombs and granades.

The crook, bouls and tongs were all employed as weapons of war: till down came the bed with a great mou of peats. So this disturbed the treading.[4]

THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF OUR JOHN.

Part II.

Now though all the ceremonies of Jockey and Maggy’s wedding were ended, when they were fairly bedded before a wheen rattling unruly witnesses, who dang down the bed[16] aboon them; the battle still encreased, and John’s works turned out to be very wonderful; for he made Janet, that was his mither’s lass the last year, grow like an Elshin shaft, and got his Maggy wi’ bairn forby.

The hamsheughs were very great until auld uncle Rabby came into redd them, and a sturdy auld fallow he was, stood stively wi’ a stiff rumple, and by strength of his arms rave them sindry, flingin the tane east and the tither west, until they stood a round about like as many breathless forfoughen cocks, and no ane durst steer anither for him, Jockey’s mither was driven o’re a kist, and brogget a her hips on a round heckle, up she gat and rinning to fell Maggy’s mither wi’ the ladle, swearing she was the mither of a’ the mischief that happened, uncle Rabby ran in between them, he having a great lang nose like a trumpet, she recklessly came o’er his lobster neb a drive wi’ the ladle until the blood sprang out and ran down his auld grey beard and hang like snuffy bubbles at it; O! then he gaed wood, and looked as waefu like, as he had been a tod lowrie, com’d frae worrying lambs, wi’ his bloody mouth. Wi’ that he gets an auld flail, and rives away the supple, then drives them a to the back o’ the door, but yet nane wan out; than wi’ chirten and chappen, down

comes the clay hallen and the hen bauk with Rab Reid the fidler, who had crept up aside the hens for the preservation of his fiddle.

Ben comes the bride when she got on her coat, clappet Rabby’s shoulder and bad him spare their lives: for their is blood enough shed in ae night, quoth she, and that my beard can witness, quoth he. So they a’ came in obedience to uncle Rabby, for his supple made their pows baith saft and sair that night; but daft Maggy Simson sat by the fire and picket banes a’ the time o’ the battle: indeed quoth she, I think ye’re a’ fools but mysel; for I came here to get a guid supper, and other fouk has gotten their skin we’ll pait.

By this time up got John the bridegroom, that was Jockey before he was married, but could na get his breeks; yet wi’ a horse nail he tacket his sark tail between his legs, that nane[17] might see what every body should hide, and rambling he cries settle ye, or I’ll gar my uncle settle ye, and saften ye’re heads wi’ my auld supple.

Poor Rab Reid the fidler took a sudden blast; some said he was maw-turn’d wi’ the fa’; for he bocked up a the barley and then gar’d the ale go like a rain bow frae him as brown as wort brose.

The hurly burly being ended, and naething but fair words and shaking o’ hands, which was a sure sign o’ an agreement, they began to cow their cuttet lugs, and wash their sairs, a but Jockey’s mither, who cries out a black end on a you and your wedding baith: for I hae gotten a hunder holes dung in my arse wi’ the heckle teeth.

Jockey answers, A e’en had you wi’ them than mither, ye will een be better sair’d.

Up gets uncle Rabby, and auld Sandy the sutor o’ Seggyhole, and put every thing in order; they prappet up the bed wi’ a rake and rippling kame, the bearers being broken, they made a solid foundation of peats, laid on the cauf bed and bowsters, where Jockey and Maggy was beddet the second time.

Jockey no being used to lie wi’ a naked woman, except heads and thraws wi’ his mither, gets his twa hands about the brides neck and his houghs out o’er her hurdies, saying, I ne’er kist wife nor lass naked before, and for fainness I’ll bite you, I’ll bite you, &c. Naithing mair remarkable till about haf a year and four ukes thereafter, in comes Marion Mushet rinning barefoot and bare legget, wi’ bleart cheeks and a watery nose, cursing and banning, greeting and flyting.

Marion enters. Crying, and whar’s John.

His mither answers. Indeed he’s out in the yard powing Kail runts.

Marion. A black end on a him and his runts baith, for he’s ruin’d me and my bairn.

Mith. Ruin’d you! it canna be; he never did you ill, nor said you ill, be night or be day, what gars you say that?

Mar. O woman! our Jenny is a’ rowing like a pack o’ woo; indeed she’s wi’ quick bairn, and your John is the father o’t.

[18]

Mith. Our John the father o’t! had, there enough said, lying lown, I trow our John was ne’er guilty of sic a sinfu action: Daft woman, I true it ill be but wind that hoves up the lasses wame; she’ll hae drunken some sour drink like sour sowens, or rotten milk that mak’s her sae.

Mar. A wae be to him and his actions baith, he’s the father o’t furnicator dog that he’s, he’s ruin’d me and my bairn; I bore her and brought her up honestly, till she came, to you; her father died and left me wi’ four o’ them, there wasna ane o’ them cou’d pit on anither’s claes, or tak a louse aff ither.

Mith. I bid you had your tongue, and no even your bystarts to my bairn, for he’ll ne’er tak wi’t: he, poor silly lad, he wad ne’er look to a lass, be’s to lay her down. Fy Maggy cry in o’ John, and let’s ratify’t wi’ the auld ruddoch: ay, ye’ere no blate for saying sae.

Mar. Be angry, or be well pleased, I’ll say’t in a your faces, an I’ll ca you before your betters about it or lang gae.

John enters. An what want ye now, is our brose ready yet?

Mith. Ay brose, black brose indeed for thee, my bairn; here Marion Mushet saying ye hae gotten her dochter wi’ bairn.

Jock. Me mither? I ne’er lay in a bed wi’ her dochter a my days, it’ll be the young lairds, for a saw him kiss her at the Lammas fair, an let glam at her nonsense.

Mith. Ay, ay, my man Johny, that’s the way she has gotten her belly fu’ o’ bairns; it’s no you nor the like o’ you, poor innocent lad, that gets bystart weans: a wheen filthy lowns, every ane loups on anither, and gies you the wyte o’ a’.

Mar. You may say what you like about it, it’s easy to ca’ a court whar there’s nae body to say again, but I’ll tell you a I ken about it, and that is what she tell’t me, and you guidwife telt me some o’t yoursel; an gin you hadna brought in Maggy wi’ her muckle tocher atween the twa, your Jockey and my Jenny had a been man and wife the day.

Jock. I wat weel that’s true.

Mith. Ye filthy dog at ye are, are ye gaun to confess wi’ a[19] bystart; and it no yours: dinna I ken as well as she do wha’s aught it?

Jock. Ay but mither, we may deny as we like about it, but I doubt it come to my door at last.

Mith. Ye silly sumff and senseless fallow, had ye been knuckle deep wi’ the dirty drab, ye might a said sae, but ye telt me lang syne that ye cou’d na lo’e her, she was so lazy and lown like; besides her crooket fit and bow’d legs.