Dougal Graham

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[The edition reprinted from here is ‘the tenth edition,’ as the title page bears. The full title is:—‘The Young Coal-Man’s Courtship to a Creel-Wife’s Daughter, or, a Dialogue between an Old Woman and her Son: wherein she instructs him in the Real Art of Courtship. Very beneficial for blate Wooers or young Beginners. The Tenth Edition. Containing all its Three Parts. Glasgow: Printed and sold by J. & J. Robertson, MDCCLXXXII.’ It is a 16 pp. 12mo.]

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THE YOUNG COALMAN’S COURTSHIP TO A CREEL-WIFE’S DAUGHTER.

All you that’s curious of Courtship, give attention to this History of Mary and her son Sawny, a young Coalman, who lived in the country a few miles from Edinburgh.

Mary, his mither, was a gay hearty wife, had mair wantonness nor wealth; was twelve years a married wife, nine years a widow, and was very chaste in her behaviour, wi’ her ain tale (for want of charging:) for a’ this time of her widowhood, there was never a man got a kiss o’ her lips, or laid a foul hand on her hind quarters.

Sawny her son was a stout young raw lown, full faced, wi’ flabby cheeks, duddy breeks, and a ragged doublet, gade always wi’ his bosom bare, sometimes had ae gartan, a lingle or rash-rape was good enough for Sawny: his very belly was a’ sun burnt and brown like a piper’s bag, or the head of an auld drum; and yet his beard began to sprout out like herring banes: he took thick brose to his breakfast, and baps and ale through the day, and when the coals sell’d dear, when the wind was cauld, bought an oven farl and twa Dunbar weathers,[27] or a Glasgow magistrate,[28] which fish-wives ca’s a waslen herrin.

His mither, auld Mary plagued him ay in the morning, got up when the hens keckled, reinged the ribs, blew her snotter-box, primed her nose, kindled her tobacco pipe, and at every puff breathed out fretting against her hard fortune, and lanely single life. O but a widow be a poor name, but I live in a wilderness in this lang-lonen; mony a man gaes by my door, but few looks in to poor auld Mary: Hoch hey, will I never win out o’ this weery’d life.—Wa’ Sawny man, wa’ Sawny man; wilt thou na rise the day; the sun’s up, an a’ the nibours round about; Willie and Charlie is to the hill an hour syne, an’ haf-gate hame again. Wilt thou rise and gi’ the beasts a bite; thou minds na’ them, I wat man.

Grump, grump, quo’ Sawny, they got their supper an hour after I got mine. Shute to dead come on them, an’ they get a bit frae me till they work for’t.

Sawny. But O Mither, I been dreaming that I was married, an’ i’ the bed aboon the bride, I wonder gin it be true: Od! I never got sic fun; what wilt be, think ye? How auld am I mither; do you think I could man a hissy yet? Fegs am a mind to try, but the sour saucy hissies ’ill no hae me, I ken well enough.

Mither. Hae you lad, ay mony a hungry heart wad be blyth o’ you; but there was never a sca’d Jocky but there was a scabbit Jenny till him yet:[29] dinny be fear’d lad.

Sawny. A hech, mither, I’se no be lordly, an I sud tak a beggar wife aff the hi’ gate: but I’ll tell you something it’m ay thinking on, but ye manna tell the nibours, for the chields wad aye jamf[30] me wi’t.

Mither. Wad I tell o’ thee, I wad tell o’ mysel as soon.

Sawny. Do ye mind, mither, that day I gaed to the Pans[31] I came in by Auld Mattie’s, your countrymans, the Fife wife, it came out o’ the town ye came frae, the wife it says, Be-go laddie, I gaed there, and she wisna in, and her doughter kend me; she was unco kind, and made me fat, fat brose out o’ the lee side o’ her kail pat, there was baith beef and paunches in’t: od they smell’d like ony haggies, an’ shin’d a’ like a gou’d lac’d waiscoat, figs I suppit till I was like to rive o’ them, and had a rift o’ them the morn a’ day; when I came out, I had a kite like a cow wi’ ca’f. She spier’d for you mither, and I said ye was gaily: and she looked to me, and leuch ay, and grippet my shakle bane, and said I wad be a sturdy fallow yet.—I looked ay to her, and thought I liked her, and thinks on’t ay sin-syne, she leugh, and bad me seek out a coal-driver for her, for she did na’ like to carry a fish creel.

Mither. Forsooth, Sawny, I’ll gie my twa lugs for a lav’rocks egg if she binna in love wi’ thee, and that will be a bargain.

Sawny. An’ upon my word mither she’s a sturdy gimmer, well worth the snoaking after; she has a dimple in every cheek, and ane on her chin, twa legs like twa posts, an haunches like a sodger’s lady’s hoop, they hobble when she shakes, and her paps plays nidity nod when she gangs, I ken by her keeking[32] she has a conceit o’ me.

Mither. But Sawny man, an tou see her mither Matty in the town, auld Be-go-laddie, as ye ca’ her, gi’ her a dram, she lik’st well; spout ye a mutchkin o’ molash in her cheek, ye’ll get her mind an’ speed the better.

Sawny. But mither how sud I do when I gang to court her; will I kiss her and tan kittle her, an’ fling her o’er as the chiels does the hissies amang the hay. I seen them gang our ither, and o’er ither; an’ when they grip them by the wame, they’d cry like a maukin when the dogs is worrying them.

Mither. Hut awa’, daft dog it thou is, that’s no the gate, thou maun gang in wi’ bra’ good manners an’ something manfu’; put on a Sunday’s face and sigh as ye were a saint; sit down beside her as ye were a Mess John; keek ay till her now and then wi’ a sto’en look, and had your mouth as mim, and grave as a May-puddock, or a whore at a christening; crack well o’ our wealth, and hide our poverty.

Sawny. Ay but mither, there’s some other way in courting nor that, or the lasses would never couple so close to them.

Mither. Ay but Sawny man, there is a time for everything and that too; when ye sit where nae body sees you, you may tak her head in your oxter, like a creesh pig, dab nebs wi’ her now an’ than, but be sure ye keep a close mouth when ye kiss her; clap her cheeks and straik her paps, but for your drowning gang nae farther down; but fouk’s that’s married can put their hand to ony part they like.

Sawny. Aha, but mither, I didna ken the first word o’ courting, the lassie ’ill no ken what am com’d about.

Mither. Ay will she lad, wink and keek well to her, she’ll hae a guess; seek a quiet word o’ her at the door; an’ gin it be dark, gie her a wee bit kiss when ye’ve tell’d her your errand; an’ gin they gi’e you cheese and bread, or ony meat, ca’t good, whether it be sae or no; and for my blessing, be mensfu’ wi’ your mouth, and dinna eat o’er muckle, for I seen you sip as mony milk brose as wad a sar’t twa men to carry on a barrow.

Sawny. A but mither, ye’re lying now, or it was na’ a’ at ance than, but an they set meat before me, and I be hungry, a de’il claw the clungest[33] an’ I be nae upsides wi’t, for that same. A faith mither, fouks maun hae meat, an’ they should ne’er get wives, there’s some o’ them no worth the cursing, an’ a body were na letting an oath whether or no: a hear ye that now, when ye pit me till’t, and gar me speak; ay by my sooth, I wad rather hae a bit good powny[34] an’ a pound o’ cheese, or I were bound to bab after ony hizzies buttocks I see yet.

Mither. Wa Sawny man thou’s a fool an’ that’s a fau’t: gin every ane were as easy about women as thou is, the warld wad be a wilderness in a wee time; there wad be nae body to inhabit the earth but brute beasts, cats and dogs wad be worrying ither, and every thing gae to confusion. Gae to the courting ye dog it ye are, and either do something or naething at a’.

End of the First Part.

Up got Sawny in the morning, and swallowed o’er his sodden meat, slag by slag; and aff he goes to the coals and the courting, lilting and singing like a lav’rock in a May mornin, O to be married if this be the way. The colliers wonder’d a’ to see him sae well busket, wi’ a pair o’ wally side auld fashioned breeks o’ his father’s,[35] and a lang cravate like a minister, or Baillie Duff at a burial, a clean face and hands, and no less than a gun sleev’d linen sark on him, which made his cheeks to shine like a sherney weight, and the colliers swore he was as bra’ as a horse gawn to a cow’s dredgy.

But Sawny came aff wi’ his coals whistling, and whipping up the poor beast e’en as outragious as ony ram at riding time; well might ony body see there was a storm in Sawny’s nose, light where it like; for no sooner had he sell’d his coals than he left his horse to come hame wi’ a nibour callen, and gade keeking up the Cow-gate, and thro’ the closes, seeking auld Be-go his good-mither to be, then in thro’ the fish market where he bought a lang herrin, an’ twa baps, a pair of suters auld shoon greesed black and made new, to make his feet feasible like, as he kend the lass wad look at them, (for his mither tell’d him the women look’d ay to the men’s legs or they marry’d them, and the well-legged louns gade ay best aff.)

So Sawny came swaggering through a’ the shell wives, but she was nae there, but coming down the town beneath the guard, meets auld Be-go just in the teeth, and crys, hey laddie my dow, how’s your mither honest Mary? I thank you co’ Sawny, she’s meat-heal, and ay working some, how is a’ at hame, is Kate and the laddie well?

Mat. Fu’ well my dow, you’re a bra’ soncy dog grown, a wally fa’ me gin I kend ye.

Come, come, co’ Sawny, and I’ll gie you a nossock to heat your wame, it’s a cauld day, an’ ye’re my mither’s countryman.

Na’ fair fa’ you Sawny, I’ll no refus’t, a dram’s better the day nor a clap on the arse wi’ a cauld shule, sae fallow me my dow.

So away she took me, co’ Sawny, down a dark stair to ane o’ the how houses, beneath the yird, where it was mirk as in a coal heugh,[36] and they had a great fire, Sweet be wi’ me, co’ Sawny, for it minds me o’ the ill part, an’ a muckle pot like a little caldron, seething kail and roasting flesh, the wife forket them out as fast us she cou’d into cogs and caps, for there came in a whin sutor-like fallows wi’ black thumbs and creashy aprons, that cuttied them a’ up in a wee time, but they ne’er fashed wi’ us nor we with them; we first got a gill and then a het pint; a vow said I Matty, is nae Kate gawn to get a man yet?

A man laddie, a wha wad hae her? a muckle lazy useless jade, she can do naething but work at husband wark;[37] card and spin, wash ladies rooms, and scour gentlemen’s bonny things, she canna tak a creel on her back, and apply to merchandizing as I do to win a man’s bread.

Sawny. I think some o’ the fishers and her may mak it up.

Mat. A fisher laddie, hech the fishers has a better look out wi’ them, the fishers wad rather hae a pickle good baits to their hooks, and twa three bladders to their lines, then put up wi’ the like o’ her, a stinking pridefu’ jade, although I bore her, ay scraping and washing at hersel, pricking and prining, keeps her face ay like a Flanders baby, and no less nor ribbons and rings, and her shone made o’ red clouts; an’ de’il stick pride, when our auld goodum ran barefoot, and our gutchers gaed wi’ bare hips. Gie her a man, ill thief stap a gouk in her arse first, that it may cry cuckow whenever she speaks o’t; she can do naething but scour ladies piss pots, and keep clean the tirlie whirlies that hangs about the fire, heth she’s o’er gently brought up to be a poor man’s penny worth.

Hegh how co’ Sawny, an’ its e’en a great pity, for she’s a weel far’d lusty hissy, I had a great kindness for her.

Mat. A-well-a-wat she’s no lingle tail’d, she may be a caff-bed to a good fallow; but an thou had seen me at her age, I was a sturdy gimmer: there was na ane about a’ the Hyne or Dubby-side, cou’d lay a curpen to a creel wi’ me; the fient a fallow in a’ Fife, but I wad a laid him on the braid o’ his back, an’ a’ his gear upmost, I was a chiken to chatter wi’ indeed laddie, I had a pair o’ cheeks like a chapman’s arse, and a flank like an ox; sae had I een.

Sawny. Nae doubt co’ Sawny but ye had a pair o’ beefy buttocks, for your very cheeks hings like leather bags to this very day; but I’ll tell you what am gaun to tell you, do you think that your Kate wad tak me, an I wad come to court her.

Mat. Tak you laddie, tak you, a faith she’ll tak you, for she wou’d a tane a poor button thing of a half blind taylor, wartna me, a poor, bleir’d scabbit like creature it was, I seen the day I wou’d ha carried it in my pouch: wode I’se warrent her jump at you like a fish at a flee, wode I say tak you, an’ she winna tak you I’se tak you mysel; but she and I cust out the day, about her cockups and blackcaps, gard me say sae meickle o’ her, but she’s my sonsy dawty for a’ that, weel a wat she’s a weel natured lassie an’ she turn an ill-natured wife I canna tell.

Sawny. A we’ll then I’ll venture on her as she is, for my mither’s pleased, and ye’re pleas’d, an’ am pleas’d, an’ in she be pleas’d wode I am sure to get her, an’ the taylor has nae bridled her, or tane a trying trotty o’ her.

Mat. But Sawny man, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, I’ll hame and broach her the night on’t, an’ come ye the morn, we’ll make it fude fast in a wee time, so thou’s get mair tocher than a cramon, gamon to gamon, she has baith blankets and sheets, a covering and twa cods, a caff-bed and bowster, and hear’st thou me laddie, I have a bit auld hogger[38] an’ some thing in’t, thou’s get it when I die; but by my suth it will be the last thing that I will part wi’, I kenna what I may need yet, its an auld wife kens her wierd.

On this they paid their spout[39] and parted; but when Sawny came out he stoited and stagger’d like a sturdy stot, molash was chief commander, for he thought every body had two heads and four een and more noses than they needed; being sometime in the dark house, thought it was the morning of a new day, a hech said he, when was I a night frae my mither before, she’ll think I am put in the guard, tane wi’ the deel, or the doctors, or anse married, and wirking at the wanton wark o’ wean’s making.

Mat. Hute daft laddie, the soup drink’s in your head, this day and yesterday is a’ ae day, ye’ll be hame in bra’ time yet.

Sawny. A well a well then good day to you good-mither, ye maun gar Kate tak me or thief tak you a’ the gither, I’ll hame and tell the length its come, an’ it come nae farther it maun e’en stick there.—Off he goes tacking about like a ship against the wind, as if he would knock holes in the wa’s and windows wi’ his elbows, he looked as fierce as a lion; wi’ a red face like a trumpeter, and his nose was like a bublie-cocks neb, as blue as a blawirt; but or he wan half way, his head turned heavier nor his heels, and many a filthy fa’ he got, through thick and thin he plash’d, till hame he gets at last, grunting and graping by the wa’s, that auld Mary his mither thought it was their neighbour’s sow, he was so bedaubed wi’ dirt, gets him to bed, he was in a boiling barrel fever, and poor Mary grat wi’ grief.

Sawny. Hech hey co’ Sawny, but courting be a curst wark, and costly, an’ marriage be as mortifying and murdering, the devil may be married for me.

Mither. Wa, Sawny man what’s come o’er thee now, thou’s gotten skaith, some auld wife has witcht thee,[40] or the deel has dung thee o’er in some dirty midden, my bairn’s elf-shot; whar has thou been, or what hast thou seen, thy een reels like a wild cat, and the sweat is hailing o’er thy nose, thou’s witcht, O man what will I do!

Sawny. Bock, bock co’ Sawny, but it couldna win up wi’ bubbles and herrin banes, o’ co’ Sawny put me in my bed, for my days will soon be done, a curse on your courting wark, for its kill’d me, and wives is but wicked things I ken by the same.

Mither. O dole! dole my bairn has gotten poison, for the smell o’t is like poison to me.

Sawny. Gin herrin and het ale be poison, there’ll no be mony left alive: Bock co’ Sawny, the bed’s filld.

Mither. My bairn thou was ay a cleanly bairn till now, thou’s surely lost thy senses when thou files where thou lies as the brute beasts does, thou never did the like o’ this before since thou left cakying o’ the cradle.

N.B.—The third Part gives a further account of the Courtship and Marriage, &c.

Poor Sawny had a terrible night o’t, wi’ a sair head, and a sick heart, his een stood in his head, his wame caddled like onny mill trows,[41] and a’ his puddings crocket like a wheen paddocks in a pool; his mither rocket and wrang her hands, crying a wae be to the wife that brew’d it! for I hae lost a well foster’d bairn, wi’ their stinking stuff, a meikle deel ding the doup out o’ their ca’dron, my curse come on them and their whisky pots, its burnt him alive, ay, ay, my bairn he’s gone.

But about the break of day, his wind brake like the bursting of a bladder; O happy deliverance! cried Mary his mither, tho’ dirt bodes luck,[42] and foul farts files the blankets, I wish ne’er war be amang us. The next thing that did Sawny good was, three mutchkins o’ milk made in thin brose, and a fine pickle pepper in them, yet he had a soughing in his lugs like a saw-mill, and every thing ran round about wi’ him a’ that day. Yet his mother got him out o’ the bed, on o’ the meikle chair, a pair o’ blankets about his shoulders, a cod at his back, and a hot brick to his soles, to gar him true he was nae well; and there he sat like a lying-in wife, cracking like a Hollander, and ate twa dead herrin and a cufe,[43] telling a’ the outs and ins about his bridal, and whan it was to be; for he had gotten every body’s consent but the bride’s about it.

Mither. But Sawny man that’s the main thing, ye maun hae that too.

Sawny. Na, na, mither am the only thing myself, she’s but a member, the men maun ay be foremost, gang what way it will, I’se ay be the uppermost.

Mither. But Sawny man, what way is thou gaun to do? will ye mak a pay penny wedding?[44] or twa three gude neighbours, a peck o’ meal baken, wi’ a cheese, and a barrel o’ ale, will that do?

Sawny. Na, na, mither, I’ll take a cheaper gate nor ony o’ them; I’ll gar haf-a-crown and haf-a-mutchkin or a rake o’ coals do it a’, then a body has nae mair a-do but piss and then go to bed syne.

Mither. Na, na, my man Sawny, I have mony, mony a time, heard thy honest father say, that never a ane wad do well that cap-strided the kirk, or cuckol’d the minister.[45]

Sawny. A tell na me mither, o’ the ministers; they’re ay for their ain hands as well as other fouks, an’ if a poor beggar body had a bit wean to chrisen, the deil a doit they feike him o’t.

Mither. Hute awa man, there’s nae body has weans, but what has siller to pay the chrissening o’ them; or if they be that poor they sude na get nae weans, and they wad na be fash’d syne.

Sawny. Ha, ha, mither the poor foukes like the lice; ay when they meet they marry and maks mae o’ them: And I think the ministers might chrisen their bits a weans for nae thing, the water is no sae scant; they’re well paid for their preaching, they may very well both marry and chrisen a’ the poor foukes into the bargain, by the way of a maggs.[46]

Mither. Ay, ay, my man Sawny, marriage is a sweet thing for young fouke an’ the bed undefil’d.

Sawny. What the vengeance mither, do ye think that a body is to file the bed every night, an’ they do’t ance.

Mither. Na, na, that’s no what I mean, its happiness that fouk has that’s married, besides the wearied lonesome life it I hae, lying tumbling and gaunting in a bed my lane; O sirs! but a man in a bed be a usefu’ body, an’ it were but to claw ane’s back, as for a body’s foreside they can claw it themsel.

Sawny. A’ mither, mither, ye hae fun a string again, I think ye might a wanted a’ your days when ye fasted sae lang; ye hae plenty o’ baith milk and meal, snuff and tobacco, but ye smell at the crack o’ the whip, I kend my mither wad ride yet; for I seen her fit wagging this lang time.

Mither. A dear Sawny man, an thou were ance fairly aff the fodder, I’ll be casten into a hole of a house by mysel, where I’ll just ly and break my heart, and weary mysel to dead, but an I cou’d get a bit honest weaver, a cobler, or some auld taylor by the tail, I wad tickle to him yet, let the country clash as they please about it.

Sawny. A well, a well, then mither, take then your ain flight; there’s nae fool to an auld fool; for the morn I’se be aff or on wi’ the hissy I hae on hand.

So on the morning Sawny got a’ his clase clean, his hair cam’d and greas’d wi’ butter, and his face as clean as the cat had licket it; and away he goes singing.

Now poor Sawny altho’ he sang, was as pale as a ghost from the grave, his face was whitly white, like a well bleatch’d dish-clout, he looked just as he had been eaten and spued again; but at length he came to the bride’s door, and in he goes wi’ a brattle, crying how is a’ here the day? an’ what’s com’d o’ thy mither lassie? O Saunders said the bride she’s awa’ to the town, what came o’ you yesterday, she waited on you the whole day; ye gart her lose a day’s trade lad, and she is away this morning cursing like a heathen, an’ swearing be-go that ye hae geen her a begunk.

Sawny. A dole woman, I took a sudden blast o’ the hame gawn, an’ was never so near dead in my life.

An’ wha think you was in company wi’ Kate the bride, but the wee button of a taylor, who sat and sewed on a table, cocking like a t—d on a trencher, but when he kend wha was com’d he leaped down on the floor, custe a dash o’ pride like a little bit prince, he bobet about, and so out he goes with the tear in his eye, and his tail between his feet like a haff worried colly-dog.

Sawny. Now Katty do ye ken what I’m com’d about?

Kate. O yes my mither tell’d me, but I’m no ready yet, I have twa gowns to spin, and things to mak.[48]

Sawny. Hute, things to mak, ye have as mony things as ye’ll need woman, canna ye spin gowns in your ain house wi’ me, as right as here wi’ an auld girning mither?

Kate. But dear Saunders, ye must give a body time to think on’t, ’twad be ill far’d to rush together just at the first.

Sawny. And do ye think I have naething a-do, but come here every other day hoiting after you? it’ll no do, I maun be either aff wi’ you or on wi’ you, either tell me or tak me, for I ken of other twa, and some o’ you I will hae, for as I’m a sinner my mither is gawn to be married too, an’ she can get a bit man of ony shape or trade.

Kate. Indeed then Saunders, since you’re in such a haste, you must e’en tak them that’s readiest, for am no ready yet.

Sawny. Dear woman whan your mither an’ my mither’s pleas’d, am willing to venture on ye, what a sorrow ails you?

Kate. Na, na I’ll think on’t twa or three days; it’s o’er lang a term to see without a thought.

Sawny. Wode I think ye’re a cumstrarie piece o’ stuff, it’s true enough your mither said o’ ye, that ye’re no for a poor man.

Kate. And what mair said she o’ me?

Sawny. Wode she said you could do naething but scure wash mugs, an’ gentlemen’s bonny things, but hissies it is bred amang gentle houses, minds me o’ my mither’s cat, but ye’r far costlier to keep, for the cat wastes neither saep nor water, but spits in her lufe and washes ay at her face, and whins o’ you can do nae ither thing, and up he gets.

Kate. O Saunders but ye be short, will ye no stay till my mither come hame?

Sawny. I stay’d long enough for any thing I’ll be the better; and am no sae short as your totum of a taylor it I cou’d stap it my shoe, sae cou’d I e’en.

Hame he goes in a passion, and to his bed he ran crying, O death, death! I thought the jade wad jumpet at me; no comfort nor happiness mair for poor me. O mither gar make my burial bread, for I’ll die this night or soon the morn.[49] But early next morning in comes auld Be-go his good mither, who had left her daughter in tears for the slighting o’ Sawny; and haules him and his mither away to get a dinner of dead fish, where a’ was agreed upon, the wedding to be upon Wednesday; no bridal fouks but the twa mithers and themselves twa.

So according to appointment they met at Edinburgh, where Sawny got the cheap priest,[50] who gave them twa three words, and twa three lines, took their penny and a good drink, wish’d them joy and gaed his wa’s. Now said auld Be-go, if that be your minister, he’s but a drunken b—h, mony a’ ane drinks up a’, but he leaves naething, he’s got that penny for deil haet, ye might cracket lufes on’t[51] and been as well, if no better; I have seen some honest men say mair o’er their brose[52] nor what he said a’ the gither, but an ye be pleas’d am pleas’d, a bout in the bed ends a’, and makes firm wark: so here’s to you, and joy to the bargain, its ended now well I wat.