; MARGARET 
 
 AND 
 
 THE MINISTjBlBl 
 
 A TRUE TALE. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 She ne £ er before saw sicken fairlies, 
 Sae mony antic turly-whurlies. 
 
 PAISLEY: 
 
 PRINTED BY G. CALDWELL, 2, NEW-STREET, 
 
THE 
 
 COMIC TALE 
 
 OF 
 
 MARGARET and the MINI STL h 
 
 A douse, religious, kintry wife, 
 That liv'd a quiet contented life, 
 To show respect unto the priest; 
 Whom she esteem'd within her breast, 
 Catch 'd twa fat hens, baith big an' plum 
 An' butter she pack'd up a lump, 
 Which she a present meant to gie him, 
 And wi' them aff she gaed to see him, 
 Dress'd in her ain auld kintry fas'on, 
 I Wi' brown stuff gown, an' braw white 
 
 bussin, 
 
 A dark blue cloak an* hood co'er'd a*, 
 8ae lade, sae clad, she march 'd avva; 
 Thus trudg'd alang— an' hence, belf 
 At the manse door she did arrive— 
 Rapp't, was admitted by the maid; 
 Ben to the kitchen wi' her gade — 
 Syne for the Minister inquir'd, 
 Who soon came butt, as she desir'd f 
 When she to him a curtchie made, 
 An' he to her thus smiling said 
 
 1 
 
3 
 
 Min. O ! my dear Margret, is bis jow , 
 
 I'm glad to see you ; how d'ye do ; . 
 How's Tamos, my auld worthy fnen i 
 Hows Jock your son, an' daughter Jean. 
 Mar. They're gaily, Sir, we-re a meat heal- 
 Tho' Tamie's e'en but craz'd an' trail 
 But here's some butter, I present ye, 
 Which wi'thir hens I compliment ye. 
 Min Howt, Margret ! this speaks t' expense 
 But thanks ye'se get for recom pence : 
 Wi' gratefu' heart, I freely tell 
 Ye're ever kind an' like yoursel. 
 Mar. Whisht, Sir \ wi' thanks—nae thanks 
 Ye're worthy mair— the gift's but sma'; 
 But this acknowledgement from us, 
 Means ye're beloved by me and Tomas. 
 Min. Sic favours, sure, I ne'er expected, 
 Yet blyth am I, I'm sae respected ; 
 Fling affyour cloak and follow me ; 
 Come ben, an' rest, an' crack awee : 
 'Tis no sae aft ye come to see us; 
 Ye'll wait, and tak' your dinner wi' us — 
 It's ready, wailing on my comin ; 
 Come ben then, Margret, honest woman 
 Mar. Na, na, Sir 1 diuna speak o' that, 
 I'll tak' nae dinner weel I wat : 
 Wi' gentle manners (ye will grant it) 
 I've ever yet been unacquaintit. 
 Min. The manners that ye use at hame — 
 Use here, an' banish fear an' shame. 
 The company's but few, they're whojly 
 My wife, a preacher, Jess, and Poll\ : 
 Ye'se tak' your dinner or ye gang 
 Just do like me, ye'll no gae wrang 
 
4 
 
 To done, at length, she was advised 
 Gade glowrin' ben like ane surprised; 
 Spread wide her gown, her head erecked, 
 Confused and awkwardly she becked; 
 While rev 'rend Mess John, kind and fair 
 Conducted her unto a chair ; 
 An' told them wi' a knacky sentence, 
 She was an intimate acquaintance. 
 Blate like, aroun £ them a c she gaz'd; 
 But at the table was amaz'd, 
 She ne'er before saw siken fairlies, 
 Sae mony antic tirly-whirlies, 
 How to behave, while she was eating, 
 In sic a nicy, gentle meeting, 
 She had great fears — her heart was beatinjj 
 Her legs did shake — her face was sweating. 
 But still she was resolved anon, 
 To do iia a e things like Mess John. 
 
 A' ready sitting face to face, 
 His rev'rence, gravely, said the grace ; 
 Then, wi' a frank an 6 open air, 
 Bade them fa'on, an lib'rsl share. 
 But he being with the palsy troubl'd, 
 In lifting spoonfu's often dribbl'd, 
 Sae to prevent the draps o c broth, 
 He prin c d to's breast the table cloth. 
 Now Margret's settled resolution, 
 Was quickly put in execution ; 
 For, as was said already, she did. 
 Resolve to do whatever he did, 
 She therefore also like the priest, 
 Prin c d the cloth firmly to her breast, 
 (Wi ; a priii twa inches lang at least;) 
 
5 
 
 Which smiles frae them at table drew, 
 As far's gude breeding wad allow. 
 
 Sae soon as they the kail had supp 4 d, 
 
 To crlancin knives an' forks they gnpp'd 
 
 W'Ahem to weel filWl plates fell keenly; 
 
 Ate — took a drink— an' crackit trien'ly. 
 
 But Margret only was a hearer, 
 
 She was sae blate; nought seemed to cheer fa 
 
 Sae mony things appearing new, 
 
 Cam 4 ilka minute in her view, 
 
 And fill'd her mind sae fu 4 o 4 dread, 
 
 Cracking was clean out o s her head. 
 
 In course, the Pastor, her example, 
 
 That brought her there to feed her ample, 
 
 She notie'd twa or three times take 
 
 Out o 4 a c dish slaik after slaik 
 
 O' MUSTARD ; which she judg ; d-to be 
 
 Gravic, or some delicious brie ; 
 
 For Margret never did peruse it, 
 
 Kenn'd na' its name, nor how to use it ; 
 
 But now determined to partake o't, 
 
 She wi< a tea-spoon took a. slaik o't, 
 
 Heedless she supped up the whole, 
 
 Then instantly she looked droll, 
 
 Dung doited in a moment's space, 
 
 She hung her head and threw her face ! 
 
 Threw down her knife an c fork displeas'd, 
 
 Syne wi 4 baith hands her nose she seiz 4 d, 
 
 While it did bite an 4 blin' her een ; 
 
 The like o't sure was never seen ; 
 
 For star tin' up as fast as able; 
 
 The hail 1 gear tumbl'd ail' the table ! 
 
 The crash o 4 crock'ry ware resounded, 
 
6 
 
 Plates truntlin' — ilka ane confounded. 
 Straight to the door she frantie flew, 
 An c after her Mess John she drew; 
 Which drave the company a' throuther, 
 As they were kippled baith thegither. 
 But in a crack, the prins brak loose, 
 An' Margret, ravin' left the house, 
 Hameward, in haste, she hobbl'd sweating, 
 Tell,d Tamos the disaster greeting 
 Wrung baith her ban's, an 4 solemn gware, 
 To dine wi 4 gentle folk nae mair. 
 
 — *~=± ■> Cc€)C^)o©iC§) feat -- — 
 
 SODA WATER, 
 
 Pair Scotland's scaith is whisky rifi 
 
 The very king o' curses ; 
 Breeds ilka ill, care, trouble, strife, 
 
 Ruins health and empties purses 
 It fills a peaceful land wi 4 strife, 
 
 The ale house fills wi 4 roarin 4 ; 
 It tills wi 4 broils domestic life, 
 
 An 4 fills the kirk wi 4 snoarin 4 . 
 
 * Twas on a bonny morn in May, 
 
 Twa three chiels did forgather, 
 The night before they'd gane astray, 
 
 And were a' drunk thegither ; 
 Wi' pain their pows were like to part. 
 
 Their very tongues did russel ; 
 Wi' shilpit look and shiverin heart, 
 
 And throats as dry's a whussel. 
 
O for a drink of something cool, 
 
 Says ane, for I'm maist taintm ; 
 Then let's go in, another says, 
 
 For my puir head's just rentin. 
 And I've the very best receipt, 
 
 The stomach fumes to scatter ; 
 Then lose nae time and Let us gel 
 
 A waught o' Soda Water. 
 
 Water will never do, says ane, 
 
 Gie me some cheese that's mittie, 
 And then a bumper o' good gin, 
 
 Or sterling aquavitae : 
 To make you right this is the plan, 
 
 'Twill make you Fair and fatter; 
 But says the chiel that first began, 
 
 There's nought like Soda Water. 
 
 If Soda Water be sae good, 
 
 Gang ye and drink your fill ; 
 But I wad hae it understood, 
 
 That I'd prefer a gill ; 
 Water's a blessing, nae doubt, nxt, 
 
 And may it ne'er be missing; 
 But when wi' whisky it is mixt, 
 
 It's then a double blessing. 
 
 On fixed air the hale house rang, 
 
 And pointed observations, 
 For some were right and some were wrang, 
 
 And some were out o< patience. 
 Ye dinna seem to be in haste, 
 
 For a' your chitter chatter j 
 Come bring it in, and let us taste 
 
 This selfsame Soda Water, 
 
8 
 
 Unto ilk man a bottle's plac'd, 
 
 In silent expectation, 
 That they wad better be in haste 
 
 After so much oration ; 
 It's just to be, or not to be, 
 
 To take an unkenn'd doze, 
 Short-sighted man can hardly see 
 
 An inch before his nose. 
 
 I'll ask a favour frae ilk man, 
 And ye will surely grant it. 
 
 To drink it up as quick's you carij 
 Nor take time to decant it; 
 
 Like bugle-horns then in a raw, 
 They grower up to the lift, 
 
 And it was hardly down when twa 
 
 0 them began to rift. 
 
 That's curious stuff, it's made me weel, 
 
 1 ne'er drank this before, 
 Wi' that the Soda Water chiel 
 
 Got up wi' sic a roar : 
 I'm gone, I'm poison'd, fatal drink! 
 
 For me there is no cure, 
 When o'er his cheeks, black streams 
 
 Ran gushing to the floor. [like ink, 
 
 He held the bottle up to break, 
 
 Nae langer life expeckin, 
 Syne read the label round it's neck, 
 
 The real Japan Blackin ; 
 He's ill before, but now he's worse, 
 
 Wi' gut and ga' he's partin, 
 And 'twixt ilk boak he gaed a curse 
 
 Against real Day and Martin.