Hoots Mon and Hairy Haggi ( Haggi is the
plural of haggis - we often see flocks of haggi feeding on the
hillside just outside our house - oh - there are several out there
now . . . ) Anyway, where was I, yes I was just trying to say
that this poem is from our brilliant collection of Scottish
Poems . . .
It fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was than,
When our gudewife got puddin's to mak,
And she boil'd them in the pan.
The wind sae cauld blew south and north,
And blew into the floor:
Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife,
'Gae out and bar the door.'
'My hand is in my hussif-skep.
Gudeman, as ye may see,
An it shou'd nae be barr'd this hundred year.
It's no be barr'd for me.'
They made a paction 'tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure;
That the first word whae'er shou'd speak,
Shou'd rise and bar the door.
Then by there came twa gentlemen,
At twelve o'clock at night,
And they could neither see house nor hall,
Nor coal nor candle-light.
'Now, whether is this a rich man's house,
Or whether is it a poor?'
But never a word wad ane o' them speak,
For barring o' the door.
And first they ate the white puddin's,
And then they ate the black;
Tho' muckle thought the gudewife to hersel',
Yet ne'er a word she spak.
Then said the one unto the other,
'Here, man, tak ye my knife,
Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard,
And I'll kiss the gudewife.'
But there's nae water in the house,
And what shall we do than?'
'What ails you at the puddin' broo,
That boils into the pan?'
O up started our gudeman,
An angry man was he;
'Will ye kiss my wife before my een,
And scald me wi' puddin' bree?'
Then up and started our gudewife,
Gied three skips on the floor:
'Gudeman, ye've spoken the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door.'