But Rab slips out, an' jinks about,
Behint the muckle thorn:

He grippet Nelly hard an' fast;

Loud skirl'd a' the lasses;

But her tap-pickle maist was lost,

When kiutlin in the Fause-house *

Wi' him that night.

VII.

The auld guid-wife's weel-hoordet nits †
Are round an' round divided,

several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the top-pickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question will come to the marriage-bed any thing but a maid.

*When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green, or wet, the stack-builder, by means of old timber, &c. makes a large apartment in his stack, with an opening in the side which is fairest exposed to the wind: this he calls a Fause-house,

+ Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the lad and lass to each particular nut, as they lay them in the fire; and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be.

An' monie lads and lasses fates

Are there that night decided: Some kindle, couthie, side by side, An' burn thegither trimly; Some start awa, wi' saucy pride, An' jump out-owre the chimlie

Fu' high that night.

VIII.

Jean slips in twa wi' tentie e'e;

Wha 'twas she wadna tell; But this is Jock, an' this is me, She says in to hersel:

He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre him,

As they wad never mair part,

Till fuff! he started up the lum,
An' Jean had e'en a sair heart

To see 't that night.

IX.

Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail-runt,
Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie ;
An' Mallie, nae doubt, took the drunt,
To be compar'd to Willie:

Mall's nit lap out wi' pridefu' fling,
An' her ain fit it brunt it;

While Willie lap and swoor by jing,
'Twas just the way he wanted

X.

To be that night.

Nell had the fause-house in her min',
She pits hersel an Rob in;

In lovin' bleeze they sweetly join,

Till white in ase they 're sobbin : Nell's heart was dancin at the view, She whisper'd Rob to leuk for 't: Rob, stowlins, prie'd her bonny mou, Fu' cozie in the neuk for 't,

Unseen that night,

XI.

But Merran sat behint their backs,
Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
She lea'es them gashin at their cracks,
And slips out by hersel:

She thro' the yard the nearest taks,

An' to the kiln she goes then,

An' darklins grapit for the bauks,
And in the blue-clue* throws then,

An'

Right fear't that night.

XII.

ay she win't, an' ay she swat,
I wat she made nae jaukin;
Till something held within the pat;
Guid L-d! but she was quakin!
But whether 'twas the deil himsel,
Or whether 'twas a bauk-en',
Or whether it was Andrew Bell,

She didna wait on talkin

To spier that night.

XIII.

Wee Jenny to her graunie says, • Will ye go wi' me, graunie?

* Whoever would, with success, try this spell, must strictly observe these directions: Steal out, all alone, to the kiln, and, darkling, throw into the pot a clue of blue yarn; wind it in a new clue off the old one; and, towards the latter end, something will hold the thread; demand, Wha hauds ? i. e. who holds ; and answer will be returned from the kiln-pot, by naming the Christian and surname of your future spouse.

I'll eat the apple* at the glass,
'I gat frae uncle Johnie :'
She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt,
In wrath she was sae vap'rin,

She notic't na, an aizle brunt
Her braw new worset apron

Out thro' that night.

XIV.

Ye little Skelpie-limmer's face!
I daur you try sic sportin,
As seek the foul Thief ony place,
For him to spae your fortune:
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight!
• Great cause ye hae to fear it;
For monie a ane has gotten a fright,
An' liv'd an' di'd deleeret,

On sic a night.

* Take a candle, and go alone to a looking-glass; cat an apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, to be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.