In The Country Places Author:Charles Murray IN THE COUNTRY PLACES -1920 - CONTENTS PAGE - - I - - 5 - - - - 7 - - - - - 8 - - - - - 9 - - - I1 - - - I2 - - - - I4 - - 15 - - 16 - - - - - 18 - - - - 20 - - - - 22 - - 25 - - - - - 26 - - - - - - 27 - - L - - - 29 - - 30 CONTENTS - - - PA 3 G 1 E IT WASNA HIS WYTE IT wasna his wyie he was beddit sae late An hini wi sae muckle to dee, I-Ied t... more »he rabbits to feed an the fulpie to kame An the hens to hish into the ree The masons mear syne he set up in the closs An coupit the ladle fu keen, An roon the ruck founs wi the lave o the loons Played Takie by licht o the meen. Syne he rypit his pooches an coontit his bools, The reed-cheekit pitcher an a, Took the yirlins fower eggs fae his bonnet, an, iegs, When gorbellt theyre fykie to blaw But furth cam his mither an cried on him in, Tho sairly he priggit to wait- Thell be nae wird o this in the mornin, my laad -But it wasna his wyte he was late. I Och hey I an Och hum I he was raxin himsel An rubbin his een when he raise, An faur was his bonnet an faur was his beets An fa had been touchin his claes . Ach l his porritch was caul, theyd forgotten the saut, There was owre muckle meal on the tap. Was this a the buttermilk, fadr was his speen, An fa had been bitin his bap Hjs pints wasna tied, an the backs o his lugs Nott some sma attention as weel-But it wasna as gin it was Sabbath, ye ken, An onything does for the squeel. Wi his piece in his pooch he got roadit at last, Wi his beuks an his skaalie an sklate, Gin the wag-at-the-wa in the kitchie was slaw-Weel, it wasna his wyte he was late. The fite-fuskered cat wi her tail in the air Convoyed - him as far as the barn, Syne, munchin his piece, he set aff by his leen, Tho nae very willin, Ise warn. The cairt road was dubby, the track throu the wid, Altho maybe langer was best, But when loupin the dyke a steen-chackert flew oot, An he huntit a fyle for her nest. Syqe he cloddit wi yowies a squirrel he saw Teetin roon fae the back o a tree, An jinkit the Gamie, oot teeming his girn - s - A ragie aul billie was he. A this was a hinner an up the moss side He ran noo at siccan a rate That he fell i the heather an barkit his shins, Sae it wasna his wyte he was late. Astride on a win-casten larick he sat An pykit for rosit to chaw, Till a pairtrick, sair frichtened, ran trailin a wing Fae her cheepers to tryst him awa. He cried on the dryster when passin the mull, Got a lunt o his pipe an a news, An his oxter pooch managed wi shillans to full-A treat to tak hame till his doos. Syne he waded the lade an crap under the brig To hear the gigs thunner abeen, An a rotten plumped in an gaed sweemin awa Afore he could gaither a steen. He hovered to herrie a foggie bees byke Nae far fae the mole-catchers gate, An the squeel it was in or hed coontit his stangs-But it wasna his wyte he was late...« less