Part 11

What farther clishmaclaver might been said, What bloody wars, if Sprites had blood to shed, No man can tell; but, all before their sight, A fairy train appear’d in order bright; Adown the glittering stream they featly danc’d; Bright to the moon their various dresses glanc’d: They footed o’er the wat’ry glass so neat, The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet: While arts of Minstrelsy among them rung, And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung. O had M’Lauchlan, thairm-inspiring sage, Been there to hear this heavenly band engage, When thro’ his dear strathspeys they bore with Highland rage, Or when they struck old Scotia’s melting airs, The lover’s raptured joys or bleeding cares, How would his Highland lug been nobler fir’d, And ev’n his matchless hand with finer touch inspired! No guess could tell what instrument appear’d, But all the soul of Music’s self was heard; Harmonious concert rung in every part, While simple melody pour’d moving on the heart.

The Genius of the Stream in front appears, A venerable Chief, advanced in years; His hoary head with water-lilies crown’d, His manly leg with garter-tangle bound. Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring, Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring; Then, crown’d with flow’ry hay, came Rural Joy, And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye; All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn wreath’d with nodding corn; Then Winter’s time-bleach’d locks did hoary show, By Hospitality with cloudless brow: Next followed Courage with his martial stride, From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide; Benevolence, with mild benignant air, A female form, came from the towers of Stair; Learning and Worth in equal measures trode From simple Catrine, their long-loved abode: Last, white-robed Peace, crown’d with a hazel wreath, To rustic Agriculture did bequeath The broken iron instruments of death: At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling wrath.

[Illustration: Your ruin’d formless bulk o’ stane and lime.]

TAM O’ SHANTER

When chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors neibors meet, As market-days are wearing late, An’ folk begin to tak the gate; While we sit bousing at the nappy, An’ getting fou and unco happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, That lie between us and our hame, Where sits our sulky sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. This truth fand honest Tam o’ Shanter, As he frae Ayr ae night did canter— (Auld Ayr, wham ne’er a town surpasses For honest men and bonnie lasses). O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise As ta’en thy ain wife Kate’s advice! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, A bletherin’, blusterin’, drunken blellum; That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was na sober; That ilka melder wi’ the miller Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; That every naig was ca’d a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roarin’ fou on; That at the Lord’s house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi’ Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown’d in Doon; Or catch’d wi’ warlocks in the mirk By Alloway’s auld haunted kirk. Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthen’d sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises! But to our tale: Ae market night, Tam had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi’ reaming swats, that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; Tam lo’ed him like a very brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi’ sangs and clatter, And aye the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi’ favours secret, sweet, and precious; The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord’s laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E’en drown’d himsel amang the nappy. As bees flee hame wi’ lades o’ treasure, The minutes wing’d their way wi’ pleasure; Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O’er a’ the ills o’ life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread— You seize the flow’r, it’s bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river— A moment white, then melts for ever; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow’s lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time nor tide; The hour approaches Tam maun ride; That hour, o’ night’s black arch the key-stane, That dreary hour, he mounts his beast in; And sic a night he taks the road in As ne’er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as ’twad blawn its last; The rattling show’rs rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallow’d; Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow’d: That night, a child might understand, The Deil had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on thro’ dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet; Whiles crooning o’er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glow’ring round wi’ prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares. Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. By this time he was cross the ford, Where in the snaw the chapman smoor’d; And past the birks and meikle stane, Where drunken Charlie brak’s neck-bane; And thro’ the whins, and by the cairn, Where hunters fand the murder’d bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Where Mungo’s mither hang’d hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro’ the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro’ the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem’d in a bleeze; Thro’ ilka bore the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi’ tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi’ usquebae, we’ll face the devil! The swats sae ream’d in Tammie’s noddle, Fair play, he car’d na deils a boddle! But Maggie stood right sair astonish’d, Till, by the heel and hand admonish’d, She ventur’d forward on the light; And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance! Nae cotillon brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o’ beast— A touzie tyke, black, grim, and large! To gie them music was his charge: He screw’d the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafters a’ did dirl. Coffins stood round like open presses, That shaw’d the dead in their last dresses; And by some devilish cantraip sleight Each in its cauld hand held a light, By which heroic Tam was able To note upon the haly table A murderer’s banes in gibbet-airns; Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen’d bairns; A thief new-cutted frae the rape— Wi’ his last gasp his gab did gape; Five tomahawks, wi’ blude red rusted; Five scymitars, wi’ murder crusted; A garter, which a babe had strangled; A knife, a father’s throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o’ life bereft— The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; Wi’ mair of horrible and awfu’, Which even to name wad be unlawfu’. As Tammie glowr’d, amaz’d, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious: The piper loud and louder blew; The dancers quick and quicker flew; They reel’d, they set, they cross’d, they cleekit, Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, And coost her duddies to the wark, And linkit at it in her sark! Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans, A’ plump and strapping in their teens; Their sarks, instead o’ creeshie flannen, Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen! Thir breeks o’ mine, my only pair, That ance were plush, o’ gude blue hair, I wad hae gi’en them off my hurdies, For ae blink o’ the bonnie burdies! But wither’d beldams, auld and droll, Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, Louping and flinging on a crummock, I wonder didna turn thy stomach. But Tam kent what was what fu’ brawlie: There was ae winsome wench and walie That night enlisted in the core, Lang after kent on Carrick shore! (For mony a beast to dead she shot, And perish’d mony a bonnie boat, And shook baith meikle corn and bear, And kept the country-side in fear.) Her cutty sark, o’ Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho’ sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie. Ah! little kent thy reverend grannie That sark she coft for her wee Nannie Wi’ twa pund Scots (’twas a’ her riches) Wad ever grac’d a dance of witches! But here my muse her wing maun cour; Sic flights are far beyond her pow’r— To sing how Nannie lap and flang, (A souple jad she was, and strang); And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch’d, And thought his very een enrich’d; Even Satan glowr’d, and fidg’d fu’ fain, And hotch’d and blew wi’ might and main: Till first ae caper, syne anither, Tam tint his reason a’ thegither, And roars out ‘Weel done, Cutty-sark!’ And in an instant all was dark! And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi’ angry fyke When plundering herds assail their byke, As open pussie’s mortal foes When pop! she starts before their nose, As eager runs the market-crowd, When ‘Catch the thief!’ resounds aloud. So Maggie runs; the witches follow, Wi’ mony an eldritch skriech and hollow. Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou’ll get thy fairin’! In hell they’ll roast thee like a herrin’! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin’! Kate soon will be a woefu’ woman! Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg, And win the key-stane o’ the brig: There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they dare na cross! But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake: For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest, And flew at Tam wi’ furious ettle; But little wist she Maggie’s mettle! Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail: The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o’ truth shall read, Each man and mother’s son, take heed; Whene’er to drink you are inclin’d, Or cutty-sarks rin in your mind, Think! ye may buy the joys o’er dear; Remember Tom o’ Shanter’s mare.

THE VISION

DUAN FIRST

The sun had closed the winter day, The curlers quat their roarin’ play, An’ hunger’d maukin taen her way To kail-yards green, While faithless snaws ilk step betray Where she has been.

The thresher’s weary flingin’-tree The lee-lang day had tirèd me: And when the day had clos’d his e’e, Far i’ the west, Ben i’ the spence, right pensivelie, I gaed to rest.

There lanely by the ingle-cheek I sat and eyed the spewing reek, That fill’d, wi’ hoast-provoking smeek The auld clay biggin’; An’ heard the restless rattons squeak About the riggin’.

All in this mottie misty clime, I backward mused on wasted time, How I had spent my youthfu’ prime, An’ done nae-thing, But stringin’ blethers up in rhyme, For fools to sing.

Had I to guid advice but harkit, I might, by this, hae led a market, Or strutted in a bank, and clarkit My cash-account: While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit, Is a’ th’ amount.

I started, mutt’ring ‘blockhead! coof!’ And heaved on high my waukit loof, To swear by a’ yon starry roof, Or some rash aith, That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof Till my last breath—

When click! the string the snick did draw; An’ jee! the door gaed to the wa’; And by my ingle-lowe I saw, Now bleezin’ bright, A tight outlandish hizzie, braw, Come full in sight.

Ye need na doubt I held my whisht; The infant aith, half-form’d, was crusht; I glowr’d as eerie’s I’d been dusht In some wild glen; When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht, An’ steppèd ben.

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs Were twisted, gracefu’, round her brows; I took her for some Scottish Muse By that same token; And come to stop these reckless vows, Would soon been broken.

A hare-brain’d, sentimental trace, Was strongly markèd in her face; A wildly-witty rustic grace Shone full upon her; Her eye, ev’n turn’d on empty space, Beam’d keen with honour.

Down flow’d her robe, a tartan sheen, Till half a leg was scrimply seen; An’ such a leg! my bonnie Jean Could only peer it; Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and clean, Nane else came near it.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue, My gazing wonder chiefly drew; Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw A lustre grand; And seem’d to my astonish’d view A well-known land.

Here rivers in the sea were lost; There mountains to the skies were tost: Here tumbling billows mark’d the coast With surging foam; There, distant shone Art’s lofty boast, The lordly dome.

Here Doon pour’d down his far-fetch’d floods; There well-fed Irwine stately thuds; Auld hermit Ayr staw thro’ his woods, On to the shore; And many a lesser torrent scuds, With seeming roar.

Low in a sandy valley spread, An ancient borough rear’d her head; Still, as in Scottish story read, She boasts a race To ev’ry nobler virtue bred, And polish’d grace.

By stately tower or palace fair, Or ruins pendent in the air, Bold stems of heroes, here and there, I could discern; Some seem’d to muse, some seem’d to dare, With feature stern.

My heart did glowing transport feel, To see a race heroic wheel, And brandish round the deep-dyed steel In sturdy blows; While back-recoiling seem’d to reel Their Suthron foes.

His Country’s Saviour, mark him well! Bold Richardton’s heroic swell; The Chief—on Sark who glorious fell, In high command; And he whom ruthless fates expel His native land.

There, where a sceptred Pictish shade Stalk’d round his ashes lowly laid, I mark’d a martial race, pourtray’d In colours strong; Bold, soldier-featured, undismay’d They strode along.

DUAN SECOND

With musing-deep astonish’d stare, I view’d the heavenly-seeming Fair; A whisp’ring throb did witness bear Of kindred sweet, When with an elder Sister’s air She did me greet.

‘All hail! my own inspired bard! In me thy native Muse regard! Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard, Thus poorly low; I come to give thee such reward As we bestow.

‘Know, the great Genius of this land Has many a light aërial band, Who, all beneath his high command, Harmoniously, As arts or arms they understand, Their labours ply.

‘They Scotia’s race among them share: Some fire the soldier on to dare; Some rouse the patriot up to bare Corruption’s heart: Some teach the bard, a darling care, The tuneful art.

‘Of these am I—Coila my name; And this district as mine I claim, Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame, Held ruling pow’r: I mark’d thy embryo-tuneful flame, Thy natal hour.

‘With future hope I oft would gaze, Fond, on thy little early ways, Thy rudely-caroll’d, chiming phrase, In uncouth rhymes,— Fired at the simple artless lays Of other times.

‘I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Delighted with the dashing roar; Or when the North his fleecy store Drove thro’ the sky, I saw grim Nature’s visage hoar Struck thy young eye.

‘Or when the deep green-mantled Earth Warm-cherish’d ev’ry flow’ret’s birth, And joy and music pouring forth In ev’ry grove, I saw thee eye the gen’ral mirth With boundless love.

‘When ripen’d fields and azure skies Call’d forth the reapers’ rustling noise, I saw thee leave their ev’ning joys, And lonely stalk, To vent thy bosom’s swelling rise In pensive walk.

‘When youthful love, warm-blushing strong, Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along, Those accents, grateful to thy tongue, Th’ adorèd Name, I taught thee how to pour in song, To soothe thy flame.

‘I saw thy pulse’s maddening play Wild send thee pleasure’s devious way, Misled by fancy’s meteor ray, By passion driven; But yet the light that led astray Was light from Heaven.

‘I taught thy manners-painting strains, The loves, the ways of simple swains, Till now, o’er all my wide domains Thy fame extends; And some, the pride of Coila’s plains, Become thy friends.

‘Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, To paint with Thomson’s landscape-glow; Or wake the bosom-melting throe With Shenstone’s art; Or pour with Gray the moving flow Warm on the heart.

‘Yet all beneath th’ unrivall’d rose The lowly daisy sweetly blows; Tho’ large the forest’s monarch throws His army shade, Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows Adown the glade.

‘Then never murmur nor repine; Strive in thy humble sphere to shine; And trust me, not Potosi’s mine, Nor king’s regard, Can give a bliss o’ermatching thine, A rustic Bard.

‘To give my counsels all in one, Thy tuneful flame still careful fan; Preserve the dignity of Man, With Soul erect; And trust the Universal Plan Will all protect.

‘And wear thou this’: She solemn said, And bound the holly round my head: The polish’d leaves and berries red Did rustling play; And, like a passing thought, she fled In light away.

Glossary

=Abeigh=, aloof, at bay.

=Aboon=, above.

=Acquent=, acquainted.

=Ae=, one; only.

=Aff-loof=, offhand.

=A-gley=, askew.

=Aiblins=, perhaps, possibly.

=Airt=, region, direction; to direct.

=Airted=, directed.

=Aizle=, ash (of fuel); a cinder.

=Ajee=, ajar.

=An=, if.

=Asklent=, askance.

=Ava=, at all; of all.

=Awnie=, bearded (barley).

=Ayont=, beyond.

=Babie-clouts=, baby-clothes.

=Bairntime=, a mother’s whole brood or issue.

=Bade=, endured, could stand.

=Bannock=, a soft flat cake.

=Barley-bree=, barley-brew = ale or whisky.

=Baudrons=, the cat.

=Bawsent=, white streaked.

=Beets=, adds fuel to, incites.

=Bell=, flower, blossom; =sin’ lint was i’ the bell=, since flax was in blossom.

=Belyve=, by and by, presently.

=Ben=, the spence or parlour; in, into, the inner room.

=Beuk=, a book.

=Bicker=, a wooden cup; a draught.

=Bickering=, hurrying.

=Biel=, =bield=, a shelter.

=Bien=, comfortable.

=Big=, to build.

=Biggin=, a building.

=Bill=, a bull.

=Billie=, brother; comrade.

=Bings=, heaps.

=Birk=, a birch (tree).

=Birkie=, chap, fellow (carries a suggestion of strut, conceit or cockiness).

=Birken-shaw=, a wood of birches.

=Bizz=, to buzz.

=Blate=, bashful, shy.

=Blaud=, a slapping lot.

=Blellum=, a gassy fool.

=Blethers=, nonsense.

=Blink=, to glance brightly; a glance; a moment.

=Blinkers=, spies.

=Bluntie=, stupid, like a fool.

=Bocked=, vomited.

=Boddle=, a small coin, about = ½d.

=Bogle=, a ghost.

=Boortrees=, elder-bushes.

=Bore=, a hole or gap.

=Boot=, more than they bargained for.

=Bouk=, a bulk, body.

=Braing’t=, pulled with a jerk.

=Brak’s=, broke his.

=Branks=, a wooden curb, a bridle.

=Brats=, clothes; aprons.

=Brattle=, a spurt, sprint, scamper.

=Braw=, handsome; gaily dressed.

=Braxies=, sheep that have died of braxy.

=Briestit=, sprang forward.

=Brechan=, a horse-collar.

=Brent=, smooth, upright.

=Brent-new=, brand-new.

=Brock=, a badger.

=Brogue=, a trick.

=Broo=, brew, liquid, water.

=Broozes=, wedding-races home from church.

=Brugh=, a borough.

=Brulzie=, a brawl or brangle.

=Brunstane=, brimstone.

=Bughtin=, gathering sheep into the fold or bught.

=Buirdly=, burly, stalwart.

=Bum=, to hum.

=Bum-clock=, the beetle.

=Burdies= (dim of =burd=), damsels.

=Bure=, did bear.

=Burn=, a stream.

=Burnewin=, the blacksmith.

=Bur-thistle=, the spear-thistle.

=But=, without.

=But an’ ben=, the kitchen and parlour.

=By=, a great deal (“I care na by”).

=Byke=, a hive; a crowd.

=Byre=, a cowshed.

=Ca’=, call; drive (cattle, nails, etc.); push.

=Cadger=, a hawker.

=Caff=, chaff.

=Caird=, a tinker.

=Cairn=, a (memorial) heap of stones.

=Caller=, fresh.

=Cannie=, quiet, gentle, kind (also adv.).

=Cantie=, merry, jolly.

=Cantraip=, =cantrip=, magic, witching.

=Carl=, an old man.

=Carl-hemp=, male-hemp.

=Carlin=, a middle-aged or old woman.

=Cast out=, quarrel.

=Caups=, wooden cups.

=Chanter=, the playing pipe of the bag-pipes.

=Chaup=, a stroke, a blow.

=Chiel=, chap, young fellow (eulogistic term).

=Chimla=, chimney.

=Chitter=, to shiver.

=Claivers=, =clavers=, talk, about anything and nothing.

=Clash=, gossip, tittle-tattle; to talk so.

=Claught=, clutched.

=Claut=, a handful, a quantity.

=Cleed=, to clothe.

=Cleekit=, linked (their arms in dancing).

=Clink=, money.

=Clishmaclaver=, palaver.

=Cloot=, a hoof.

=Clud=, a cloud.

=Coble=, a small boat.

=Coft=, bought.

=Cogs=, various wooden vessels for food and drink are so called.

=Coggie=, dim. of =cog=.

=Coila=, Kyle, a division of Ayrshire.

=Coof=, =cuif=, a dolt, ninny; a mean-spirited fellow.

=Coost=, did cast.

=Cootie=, leg-plumed; a small pail.

=Corbies=, crows.

=Couthie=, kindly, comfortable.

=Cour=, to cower.

=Crack=, a story; a chat.

=Crackin=, conversing.

=Craig= (dim. =craigie=), the throat.

=Craiks=, landrails.

=Crambo-clink=, rhyme.

=Crambo-jingle=, rhyming.

=Cranreuch=, hoar frost.

=Crap=, a crop.

=Creel=, an osier basket.

=Creepie-chair=, stool of repentance.

=Creeshie=, greasy.

=Crood=, to coo.

=Crouse=, confident, bold.

=Crowdie=, oatmeal and water or milk (= uncooked porridge).

=Crummock=, a hooked stick.

=Cushat=, the wood-pigeon.

=Cutty=, short.

=Daffin=, funning, skylarking.

=Daimen-icker=, an ear or two of corn.

=Darg=, work.

=Daw=, to dawn.

=Dawtit=, petted, made much of.

=Dead=, death.

=Deave=, deafen.

=Diddle=, to jog to and fro.

=Dight=, to winnow or sift; to wipe.

=Din=, dun coloured.

=Dink=, dainty, trim.

=Ding=, to overthrow, beat.

=Dirl=, to vibrate, thrill.

=Dizzen=, a dozen.

=Doited=, muddled; bewildered.

=Donsie=, restive; wayward.

=Doo=, a pigeon.

=Dooked=, ducked.

=Dool=, sorrow.

=Douce=, sedate, serious; seemly.

=Dour=, stubborn.

=Dow=, can; =downa=, cannot.

=Dowff=, dull.

=Dowie=, low-spirited, dull, jaded.

=Downa bide=, cannot stand (them).

=Doylt=, stupified.

=Draigl’t=, draggled.

=Dreigh=, tedious, slow, tiresome.

=Droop-rump’lt=, short-rumped.

=Droukit=, soaked.

=Drouthy=, thirsty.

=Drucken=, drunken.

=Drumlie=, muddy.

=Drumossie Moor=, Culloden Field.

=Dub=, a puddle.

=Duds=, =duddies=, clothes.

=Duddie=, ragged.

=Dundee=, a Scotch psalm tune.

=Dunts=, knocks.

=Dusht=, touched.

=Earn=, an eagle.

=Eerie=, apprehensive, frightened, “queer.”

=Eild=, old age, eld.

=Elbuck=, elbow.

=Eldritch=, unearthly, fearsome.

=Elgin=, a Scotch psalm tune.

=Erse=, Gaelic.

=Ettle=, intention.

=Eydent=, diligent.

=Fa’=, to fall; lot; to have (by lot); to claim.

=Faikit=, let off, excused.

=Fain=, fond, glad; =fain o’ ither=, fond of each other.

=Fairin=, a gift from the Fair: ironically = a thrashing.

=Fan’=, =fand=, found.

=Fash=, to mind, trouble oneself.

=Fasten-een=, Fasten-even (evening before Lent).

=Faught=, a fight.

=Fauldin’-slap=, gate of the fold.

=Fawsont=, seemly, well-doing.

=Fecht=, a fight.

=Feckless=, feeble, fit for nothing.

=Fell=, sharp, tasty.

=Fen’=, =fend=, a shift or provision; to provide for, look after.

=Ferlie=, to wonder.

=Fetch’t=, stopped suddenly.

=Fey=, fated to death.

=Fidge=, to fidget.

=Fidgin-fain=, fidgeting with fainness.

=Fiel=, well.

=Fient=, fiend. =The fient a=, devil a....

=Fiere=, comrade.

=Fissle=, to bustle, be all alive.

=Fittie-lan’=, the hindmost near horse in ploughing.

=Fleech’d=, beseeched, wheedled.

=Flee=, a fly.

=Fleg=, a fright.

=Fley’d=, frightened, scared.

=Flichterin’=, fluttering.

=Flingin-tree=, a flail.

=Fliskit=, fretted and capered.

=Foor=, fared, went.

=Forbye=, besides.

=Forfairn=, worn out.

=Forfoughten=, exhausted by the conflict.

=Forjesket=, “jaded with fatigue,” R.B.

=Fou=, full; drunk.

=Foughten=, troubled, wearied.

=Fyke=, fidget.

=Fyle=, to dirty.

=Gae=, gave.

=Gae=, =gaed=, go, went.

=Gairs=, slashes (of a stuffed gown).

=Gar= (pf. =gar’d=, =gart=) make, cause to.

=Gate=, =gait=, the road; the way; =a’ to the gate=, away, out of the way; =tak the gate=, start for home.

=Gaucie=, =gawcie=, ample, flowing.

=Gaun=, going.

=Geck=, to toss the head.

=Get=, the begettings, offspring.

=Genty=, trim, elegant.

=Geordie, the yellow lettered=, a guinea.

=Gin=, if; when.

=Girn=, to twist the face, in chagrin or malice.

=Gizz=, a wig.

=Glaikit=, silly, thoughtless.

=Glaum’d=, clutched.

=Gleib=, a portion (of land).

=Glowrin=, staring.

=Glunch=, a scowl.

=Gowan=, the daisy.

=Gowk=, a fool; a guy.

=Graith=, the implements of an occupation.

=Grat=, wept.

=Gree=, a prize; =bure the gree= = won the victory.

=Greet=, to weep.

=Groanin’ maut=, the gossips’ ale at a lying-in.

=Gruntle=, the face, phiz.

=Grunzie=, the phiz (rather, mouth and nose).

=Grushie=, sturdy-growing.

=Guid-father=, father-in-law.

=Guid-willie=, hearty, with good-will.

=Gumlie=, muddy.

=Gusty=, tasty.

=Hae=, have.