"_The Devil I have_," returned the miller, in a tone which came up like a groan, as he gazed upon his nether man. Quickly comprehending the secret of the exchange, he pocketed the notes, drank up the brandy for his own consolation, and went home, moralizing his pensive path, and gave the hypocritical culprit the soundest beating she ever had in her life. She, poor soul! who had been charitably employed in the meanwhile, in letting the bird out of his cage, was not prepared for this reception; nor did she understand it until the next morning, when the breeches were cried round the town by her malignant husband, who also with no pleasant expression of countenance, made a point of turning over his newly-acquired riches in her presence.
POINT V. THE JOLLY BEGGARS; OR LOVE AND LIBERTY, A CANTATA. BY ROBERT BURNS.
When lyart leaves bestrow the yird, Or wavering like the Bauckie-bird *, Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte, And infant frosts begin to bite, In hoary cranreuch drest; Ae night at e'en a merry core O' randie, gangrel bodies, In Posie-Nansie's** held the splore*** To drink their orra duddies****: Wi' quaffing, and laughing, They ranted an' they sang; Wi' jumping, an' thumping, The vera girdle rang.
First, neist the fire, in auld red rags, Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags, And knapsack a' in order; His doxy lay within his arm, Wi' _usquebae_ an' blankets warm, She blinket on her sodger: An' ay he gies the tozie drab The tither skelpan kiss, While she held up her greedy gab Just like an aumous* dish: Ilk smack still, did crack still, Just like a cadger's** whip; Then staggering, an' swaggering, He roar'd this ditty up--
I am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, And shew my cuts and scars wherever I come; This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
My prenticeship I past, where my leader breath'd his last, When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram; I served out my trade, when the gallant _game_ was play'd, And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum.
** A man who travels the country, with his wares on the back of a horse or ass.
I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'ries, And there I left for witness, an arm and a limb; Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me, I'll clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.