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JOCK AND
HIS MOTHER
Ye see, there was a wife had a son, and
they called
him Jock; and she said to him, “You are a lazy fellow; ye
maun
gang awa’ and do something for to help
me.”
“Weel,” says Jock, “I’ll do
that.”
So awa’ he gangs, and fa’s in wi’ a
packman.
Says the packman, “If you carry my pack a’ day,
I’ll
gie you a needle at night.” So he carried the pack,
and got
the needle; and as he was gaun awa’ hame to his mither, he
cuts a
burden o’ brackens, and put the needle into the heart
o’
them. Awa’ he gaes hame. Says his mither,
“What
hae ye made o’ yoursel’ the
day?” Says Jock,
“I fell in wi’ a packman, and carried his pack
a’
day, and he gae me a needle for’t, and ye may look for it
amang
the brackens.” “Hout,”
quo’ she,
“ye daft gowk, you should hae stuck it into your bonnet,
man.” “I’ll mind that
again,” quo’
Jock.
Next day he fell in wi’ a man carrying plough
socks.
“If ye help me to carry my socks a’ day,
I’ll gie ye
ane to yersel’ at night.”
“I’ll do
that,” quo’ Jock. Jock carried them
a’ day, and
got a p. 77sock, which he stuck in his bonnet. On the way
hame,
Jock was dry, and gaed away to take a drink out o’ the burn;
and
wi’ the weight o’ the sock, his bonnet fell into
the river,
and gaed out o’ sight. He gaed hame, and his mither
says,
“Weel, Jock, what hae you been doing a’
day?”
And then he tells her. “Hout,”
quo’ she,
“you should hae tied the string to it, and trailed it behind
you.” “Weel,” quo’
Jock,
“I’ll mind that again.”
Awa’ he sets, and he fa’s in wi’ a
flesher.
“Weel,” says the flesher, “if
ye’ll be my
servant a’ day, I’ll gie ye a leg o’
mutton at
night.” “I’ll be
that,” quo’
Jock. He got a leg o’ mutton at night. He
ties a
string to it, and trails it behind him the hale road hame.
“What hae ye been doing?” said his
mither. He tells
her. “Hout, you fool, ye should hae carried it on
your
shouther.” “I’ll mind that
again,”
quo’ Jock.
Awa’ he gaes next day, and meets a horse-dealer. He
says,
“If you will help me wi’ my horses a’
day, I’ll
give you ane to yoursel’ at night.”
“I’ll
do that,” quo’ Jock. So he served him,
and got his
horse, and he ties its feet; but as he was not able to carry it on his
back, he left it lying on the roadside. Hame he comes, and
tells
his mither. “Hout, ye daft gowk, ye’ll
ne’er
turn wise! Could ye no hae loupen on it, and ridden
it?” “I’ll mind that
again,” quo’
Jock.
Aweel, there was a grand gentleman, wha had a p. 78daughter wha was
very subject to melancholy; and her father gae out that whaever should
mak’ her laugh would get her in marriage. So it
happened
that she was sitting at the window ae day, musing in her melancholy
state, when Jock, according to the advice o’ his mither,
cam’ flying up on a cow’s back, wi’ the
tail over his
shouther. And she burst out into a fit o’
laughter.
When they made inquiry wha made her laugh, it was found to be Jock
riding on the cow. Accordingly, Jock was sent for to get his
bride. Weel, Jock was married to her, and there was a great
supper prepared. Amongst the rest o’ the things,
there was
some honey, which Jock was very fond o’. After
supper, they
all retired, and the auld priest that married them sat up a’
night by the kitchen fireside. So Jock waukens in the
night-time,
and says, “Oh, wad ye gie me some o’ yon nice sweet
honey
that we got to our supper last night?”
“Oh ay,”
says his wife, “rise and gang into the press, and
ye’ll get
a pig fou o ’t.” Jock rose, and thrust
his hand into
the honey-pig for a nievefu’ o ’t, and he could not
get it
out. So he cam’ awa’ wi’ the
pig in his hand,
like a mason’s mell, and says, “Oh, I canna get my
hand
out.” “Hoot,” quo’
she, “gang
awa’ and break it on the cheek-stane.” By
this time,
the fire was dark, and the auld priest was lying snoring wi’
his
head against the chimney-piece, wi’ a huge white wig
on.
Jock gaes awa’, and gae him a whack wi’ the
honey-pig on
the p. 79head, thinking it was the cheek-stane, and knocks it
a’
in bits. The auld priest roars out,
“Murder!”
Jock tak’s doun the stair as hard as he could bicker, and
hides
himsel’ amang the bees’ skeps.
That night, as luck wad have it, some thieves cam’ to steal
the
bees’ skeps, and in the hurry o’ tumbling them into
a large
grey plaid, they tumbled Jock in alang wi’ them. So
aff
they set, wi’ Jock and the skeps on their backs. On
the
way, they had to cross the burn where Jock lost his bonnet.
Ane
o’ the thieves cries, “Oh, I hae fand a
bonnet!” and
Jock, on hearing that, cries out, “Oh, that’s
mine!” They thocht they had got the deil on their
backs. So they let a’ fa’ in the burn;
and Jock,
being tied in the plaid, couldna get out; so he and the bees were
a’ drowned thegither.
If a’ tales be true, that’s nae lee.
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