Part 3 — THE COALMAN’S COURTSHIP

TO THE

CREEL-WIFE’S DAUGHTER.

All that are curious of Courtship, give attention to the history of Mary and her son Sawney, a young Coalman, who lived in the country, a few miles from Edinburgh.

Mary, his mither, was a gay hearty wife; had mair wantonness than wealth; was twelve years a married wife, nine years a widow, and was very chaste in her behaviour wi’ her ain tale, for want o’ chargin’, for all the time of her widowhood there was never a man got a kiss of her lips, nor laid a foul hand on her hind quarters.

Sawny, her son, was a stout young raw loon, full fac’d, wi flabby cheeks, duddy breeks and a ragget doublet; gade always wi’ his bosom bare sometimes ae garter, a lingle or strae rape was gude enough for Sawny. His very belly was a’ sunburnt like a piper’s bag, or the head of an auld drum, and yet his beard began to sprout out like herring banes. He took thick brose to his breakfast, and baps and ale through the day, and when the coals selled dear, and the win’ was cauld, bought an oven-farl, and twa Dunbar Wadders, or a Glasgow Magistrate, which fish-wifes ca’s a wastlin herrin’.

His mither, auld Mary, plagued him ay in the morning; she got up when the hens keckled, riping the ribs, blew her snotterbox, primed her nose, kindled her tobacco-pipe, and at every puff breathed out frettings against her hard fortune and lanely single life. O but a widow be a poor name; but I live in a wilderness in this lang-lonen, mony a man gaes by my door, but few folks looks in to poor Mary. Hoch hey, will I never win out of this wearied life. Wa Sawny, man, wilt thou not rise the day; the sun’s up, and a’ the nibours round about; Willie and Charlie is on the hill an hour syne, and half gate hame again. Wilt thou rise an gie the beasts a bite, thou minds na them, I wat man. Grump grump, quo Sawny, they got their supper an hour after I got mine. Shut to dead come on them every ane an they get a bit frae me till they work for’t.

Sawny. But mither I’ve been dreaming that I was married, an’ in the bed aboon the bride: I wonder gin it be true? Od, I ne’er got sic fun: what will’t be, think ye? how auld am I mither? do you think I could man a hissy yet? fegs I have a mind to try; but the saucy hissies will na hae me, I ken weel enough.

Mither. Say you lad, ay mony a hungry heart wad be blythe o’ you, but there was never a sca’d Jockey but there was a scabbed Jenny till him yet: dinna be scar’d lad.

Sawny. A hech, mither, I’se no be lordly an’ I sud tak a beggar wife aff the hi’ gate; but I’ll tell ye something that I’m ay thinking on, but ye maun na tell the neighbours, for the chiels wad aye jaw me wi’t.

Mither. Wad I tell o’ thee lad? I wad tell o’ mysel as soon.

Sawny. Do ye mind mither, that day I gade to the Pans I came in by auld Mattie’s your countrywoman, the Fife wife, it cam’ out o’ the town ye cam frae, the wife that says Be-go laddies, I gade there, an she was unco kind, and made me fat brose out of the lee side o’ her kail-pot: there was baith beef and paunches in’t; od they smell’d like ony haggis, and shined a’ like a gould fac’d waiscoat: fegs I suppit till I was like to rive o’ hem and had a rift o’ them the morn a’ day; when I came out I had a kite like a cow wi’ calf; she spiered for you, mither, and I said ye was gaily; and she looked to me, and leuch, and gripped my shakle-bane, and said I would be a sturdy fallow yet—I looked to her, and thought I liked her, and thinks on’t aye since syne: she leugh, and bade me seek out a coal driver for her, for she didna like to carry a fish creel.

Mither. Forsooth, Sawny, I’ll gie my twa lugs for a lav’rock’s egg if she binna in love wi’ thee, and that will be a bargain.

Sawny. An upon my word mither, she’s a sturdy gimmer, well worth the smoaking after; she has a dimple on every cheek, an haunches like a sodjer’s lady’s hoop, they hobble when she shakes, and her paps play nidlety nod when she gangs; I ken by her keckling she has a conceit of me.

Mither. But Sawney man, an thou see her mither Matty in the town, auld be-go laddie as you ca’ her, gie her a dram, she likes it weel; spout ye a mutchkin of molash in her cheek, ye’ll get her mind, and speed the better.

Sawny. But mither, how sud I do when I gang to court her? will I kiss her, an kittle her and fling her o’er as the chiels do the hisses amang the hay. I’ve seen them gang owre ither, and owre ither, and when they grip them by the wame, they’d cry like a maukin.

Mither. Hout awa, daft doug it thou is, that’s no the gate; thou maun gang in wi’ braw good manners, and something manfu’, put on a Sunday’s face, and sigh as ye were a saint, sit down beside her, as ye were a Mess John, keek aye till her now and then wi’ a stowen look, and haud your mouth as mim and grave as a May-puddock, or a whore at a christening; crack well o’ our wealth, and hide our poverty.

Sawny. Ay, but mither there is some ither way in courting nor that, or the lassies would na couple so close to them.

Mither. Ay, but Sawny man there’s a time for every thing, and that too; when ye sit where naebody sees you, you may tak her head in your oxter like a creesh pig; dab nebs wi’ her now and then; but be sure you keep a close mouth when you kiss her, clap her cheeks and straik her paps, but for your drowning gang na farther down; but fouks that’s married can put their hand to ony part they like.

Sawny. Aha but mither I didna ken the first word o’ courting, the lassie’ll no ken what I’m com’d about.

Mither. Ay will she lad, wink and keek well to her, she’ll hae a guess, seek a quiet word of her at the door, and gin it be dark, gie her a bit wee kiss when ye hae tell’d her your errand, and gin they gie you cheese and bread, or ony meat, be sure you ca’t guid, whether it be sae or no; and for my blessing, be mensfu wi your mouth, and dinna eat unca muckle, for I’ve seen you sup as mony milk brose as would have saired twa men to carry on a barrow.

Sawney. Aha, but mither you’re lying now, for I never did it but ance, but an they set meat afore me an I be hungry, deil claw the clungest an I binna upsides with it for the same. Adeed mither, fouk maun hae meat an they should neer get wives, and there some of them no worth cursing, an a body werna setting an oath whether or no; a hear ye that now, when ye put me till’t, and gar me speak, ay by my sooth, I would rather hae a bit good poney and a pund of cheese, or I were bound to bab after ony hizzies buttocks I see yet.

Mither. Wa Sawny man, thou’s a fool, an that’s a fault; gin every ane were as easy about women as thou is, the warld wad be a wilderness in a wee time, there wad be nae body to inhabit the earth but brute beasts; cats and dogs wad be worrying ither, and every thing wad gae to confusion. Gae to the courting, ye dog that ye are, and either do something or naething at a’.

END OF PART I.