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Document : 938
Title    : The Thriftless Guidwyfe
Author(s): David Purves

Copyright holder(s): David Purves

Text

Ae tyme in ane outlin pairt o the north o Scotland, thare bade an honest an
eydent faimlie that haed but the ae dochter.  This quyne wes cryit Meg an
she wes sic a bewtie that men cam frae aw airts to pey court til hir.  But
for a peitie, the lassie’s mither wes a wee thing sempil an wantit hir
mairrit aff at the first guid offer that kythed.  Aweill, she haedna lang
ti wait.

A yung fermer chiel turnt  up that pleised the mither that weill, she gart
hir dochter lay the yoke whaur she haed been spinnin, ti the ae syde for ti
speak til him, an shaw him favor.  The fermer wes cawed Murdo an the mither
taen him an Meg aw throu the houss an lat him see a rowth o yairn that hir
dochter wes credited wi spinnin.  Murdo wes weill pleised wi seein this,
thinkin himsell chancie wi be-in sae ferr ben, an in fawin in wi a lass
that wes baith eydent an bonnie, an Meg, for hir pairt wes fair taen up wi
Murdo.  Sae afore verra lang, he brocht hir a ring an thay war mairrit.

No that lang eftir Murdo haed taen Meg back til his ain houss, he shawed
hir a gret hantil o woo he haed lyin ti spin an telt hir ti spin it aw
athout  mair adae.  

“We maun stert the wey we ettil ti gaun on!”  says he.

But Meg didna lyke pinglin wark---she haed nae notion ti spin woo aw day,
an insteid o daein the job hirsell, she fermed aw the wark out til hir
neibors, ilkane ti be peyed a guid pikkil o the woo for hir wark.  In the
hinner end, whan aw the wark wes duin bi thir neibors, out o aw the woo
that wes gien out, nae mair nor ae wee baw o yairn cam back.  

Ae day, Meg’s guidman spiert at hir gin the wab war feinisht.

“O ay, Guidman,” says Meg. “It’s feinisht richt aneuch, an
the-nicht Ah hae ti git the yairn wund on pirns reddie for weavin.  Wad ye
be sae guid as ti byde hame the-nicht an gie me a haund?

Murdo wes gled ti dae thius, for he lykit aye ti git weill fordilt wi his
wark.  Houanever, Meg pat him ben the houss whyle she bade in the kitchen
an rowed the same baw o worsted back owre the fluir ti him the haill
forenicht, garrin Murdo believe that he wes rowin a hantikl baws o woo inti
monie pirns, whan aw the tyme, the war but the ae baw.  

Weill it sae happent that Meg’s faither wes a weaver ti trade, sae she
says:

“The-morn Ah’l tak the yairn hame til ma faither for ti mak inti
claith.”

Sae aerlie neist mornin, owre she gangs ti see hir faither for ti tell him
hou she haed begunkit hir guidman wi the yairn.  Hir faither we gey
ill-pleised ti hear this, but he wes that vext for hir, he feinisht up bi
tellin hir he haed a wab o claith o his ain in the luim an that he wad gie
this til hir, gin she wad try ti dae better as a wyfe.  Sae eftir bydin
twa-thrie days wi hir mither an faither, Meg humfit the wab on his back an
stertit ti cairrie it hame.  

But  on the road hame she cam til a yillhouss an thocht til h.irsell:

“Ah’l juist gang in here an rest ma feet an hae a wee drap ti restore
masell.”
   
Weill, aince she gat sterit on the drams the war nae haudin hir, an afore
verra lang, she wes fou as a buit an fair daivert.

For aw, she stytert out the howf  onti the road whaur the war sum birks an
haed a thocht til hersell that the wab o claith wad luik braw on ane o
thaim.  Sae she wappit the wab round the brainches o ane o the trees,
plankit hirsell doun on the grund an fell asleep bedein.

No lang eftir, a packman bodie cam daunerin by, an whan he sichtit hir lyin
thare fest asleep, he taen out his shears, cut aff hir lang yallae hair,
stappit it in his poutch an made aff wi the claith frae the tree.  Whan Meg
woke up out hir sleep, she wes fair dumfounert an haurlie kent whaur she
wes, an eftir rinnin about in circles for a whyle huntin the wab, she ran
aw the road hame til hir man.

“Whaur im Ah nou?  Whaur im Ah nou?” she cryit whan she saw him.

“Whaur wad ye be, “ says hir man, “but in yeir ain houss whaur ye
belang .  But whaur is the wab o claith, no ti speak o yeir heid o
hair.?”

“Ma mither,” says she, “telt me that aince Ah gat it happit on ma
back, Ah. wad be as braw as Jock’s wyfe, sae Ah wad, sae Ah tryit it on
ane o the trees for ti see whatlyke it wad luik.  But whan Ah woke up eftir
a wee bit sleep it wes naewhaur ti be seen.  Ah dout the tree maun hae
swallaed it or hid it frae me.”

At this, hir guidman stertit ti teir his hair an cherk his teeth.  “Ah
canna byde wi the lykes o you,” he raired.  But she pled on him ti gie
hir anither chaunce an promised him she wad try ti dae better, an eftir a
wee whyle he forgied hir.

“Wyfe!” says he.  Ah killed a sheep this mornin an the corp is lyin
throuby in the back kitchen. Ah’m gaun up nou ti the lang rigg for an
oor, an whyle Ah’m awa, Ah’d lyke ye ti cut up the sheep intil as monie
bittoks o meat as the’r stoks o kail in the yaird. Syne pit ae bit o hoch
on wi saut ti sotter on the reinge for ma denner!”

As suin as he haed left the room, Meg chappit up the sheep in the back
kitchen inti littil bits wi the gullie knyfe, an syne gaed inti the yaird
an laid a skuddok o the meat at ilka stok o kail  An whan Murdo cam hame
for hios denner, whit did he see but a clekkin o burds an beiss in the
yaird, aw eydent ruggen an ryvin at bits o meat?  At first, he haurlie kent
whit wes gaun on, but whan he fund out whit haed happent, he wes that
roused it wes aw he coud dae ti keep frae letherin his wyfe.

Houever, he haed a pig ti kill that eftirnuin an eftir the pig wes richt
deid, he laid the fek o the corp asyde, in the howp that Meg wad dae better
wi the pig.

“Merk weill whit Ah say,” he telt hir.  “This pig is ti be keepit for
Lent an the Lang Reed.” 

This wes a halie day i thae days on whilk a feast wes hauden, but puir Meg
taen it ti be sum auld bodie’s name, an spierit at ilka gangril she saw,
whit wes his name, ti finnd out whuther he wes cryit, “Lent an the Lang
Reed.”  An shuir aneuch, ae day an auld bodie mair fly nor the lave telt
hir that he wes whyles kent bi this name an wes the man she socht. Sae the
gangril wes gien the pig ontil his back an awa he gaed nicher-nicherin til
himsell, weill pleised wi his day’s wark.

Sae whan Murdo gat back frae his darg at the plou, his wyfe telt him wi a
blythsum hert, that Lent an the Lang Reed  haed been at  the houss dure an
wes awa cantie an crouss wi the bacon.  Smaw wunner that Murdo wes sair
vext at this an thraetent again ti leave hir. But aince mair, she pled wi
him an gat roun him, wi promisses that she wad dae better.

Syne Murdo telt hir he haed a pikkil meal at the mill an that he wad truist
hir ti gang an winnie it, but ti be shuir no ti loss onie o it.  Sae aff
she gaed;  but here whan she wes wurkin wi the meal, did a flae no lowp its
wey inti the barrel..  Syne she cairrit the barrel outby for ti  riddil the
meal an find the flae, but the wund rase an blew aw the meal agin the
gairden waw an the waws o the houss,or awthing kythed as gin it haed been
new happit wi snaw, altho this wes at the hicht o simmer, whan awthing wes
green.

Sae whan the guidman cam hame this day,  the war sum surprise waitin for
him, an he micht he been haird ti remerk that for the month o Juin, the
haed been a awfu snaw sen he quut the houss that mornin.  But whan Meg telt
him whit haed happent, he wes at his wuts’ end an again he thraetent ti
leave hir, an again she fleitcht him ti chynge his mynd.

Nou, bi this tyme, Murdo wes stertin ti think his wyfe wad be the ruination
o him, an he made up his mynd ti tell hir naething about important
maitters.  Sae he askit hir ti luik eftir a jaur o hurlie-burlie seed, as
he said it wes.  Whit he didna tell wes that instreid o seed, the jaur wes
fou o the gowd he haed hained in, owre monie a year o darg. 

Bi this tyme, wurd o Mag’s feklessness haed spreid aw owre the kintrasyde
an the steidin wes aye thrang wi packmen, moutchers an gangril bodies, aw
eftir sum betterment.  Ane o thir packmen offert hir a whein gee-gaws for
gouns, but she telt him she hae naething ti gie him but a pigfu
hurlie-burlie seed hir man haed dernt in the middil o the fluir.  The
packman jaloused that siller or gowd micht be in the jaur an offert hir
whit she fancied for it,  sae that Meg feinisht up bi pairtin wi a pigfu
gowd for a poke o bairn’s nick-nacks.

“That dis it!” said hir man whan he haird whitna graund bergain she
haed made for his hurlie-burlie seed.  This tyme Ah’m awa for guid, an
yue can greit as mukkil as ye lyke—Ah’l no chynge ma mynd.  Ah’l no
byde here a meinit langir wi a gomeril for a wyfe!”  An wi that, he
staupit out the houss, his wyfe rinnin greitin ahint him. Sen she seemed
bentset on follaein him, he gart hir cairrie the houss dure alang wi hir on
hir back ti hinner hir, an she wes that feart for his glowerin face bi this
tyme, she did as she wes telt.   

Aw day thay maircht on this gait thegither wi hir styterin ahint him, an bi
the forenicht, fand thairsells in the middil o a gret wud i the back o
beyont.  Here thay settilt for ti byde the nicht, but Murdo thocht it wad
be best ti sklim up a heich tree for fear o wyld beiss reingin about on the
grund.  But he wes aye ill at Meg an gart hir haigil the houss dure up inti
the tree alang wi hir.

Thay warna lang up the tree or thay haird the soun o monie roch vyces doun
ablo thaim.  A gang o ketterns that haed been reivin aw day haed settilt
doun ti mak camp at the ruits o the verra tree thay war on.

“Wheisht!” whuspert Murdo. “Byde you quaet for aince in yeir lyfe! 
For the luiv o Guidness, Wheisht!  We maunna lat thir kettrens ken we’r
up here or we ir as guid as deid areddies!”

But bi nou, Meg wes sair wearit wi haudin the dure on hir back an here did
she no lat it faw wi a fell clatter onti the ketterns’ camp?  This gied
thaim sic a glif thay aw ran awa, leavin aw thair graith an siller ahint
thaim---aw but ane o thaim that haed daidilt ahint kis he wes sweir ti be
sindert frae his share.  At aince, Murdo dreipit doun frae the tree,
gruppit this kettern bi the thrappil, bure his ti the grun an cut out his
tung at the ruit wi his skean.

But the kettren warsilt lowss frae him an stourit aff throu the wuids eftir
his freins cryin, “Byde, byde!” for he kent he haed but the ae man ti
dael wi.  Houever, his mou wes that fou o bluid, his freins coudna richt
mak him out an thocht he wes cryin, “Ryde, ryde!”  Fae the soun o him
thay kent he wes sair mittilt, sae thay aw ran the fester, an for aw we
ken, they micht be rinnin yit.

Whiteever, Murdo an his guidwyfe saw thaim nae mair, an eftir getherin up
aw the kettrens’ graith an siller, thay gaed hame thegither weill
pleised.  Eftir that, bit bi bit, Meg mendit hir daftlyke weys, sae that in
the hinner end, thay leeved out thair days in a mair wycelyke mainner an in
peace an plentie. 



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Information about document and author:

Text
Text audience
General public: Informed lay people: Audience size: 1000+

Text details
Method of composition: Wordprocessed
Year of composition: 1984
Word count: 2228
General description: folk tale

Text publication details
Published: Publisher: Lallans 22
Publication year: 1984
Part of larger text: Contained in: Lallans 22

Text setting
Leisure/entertainment: 
Text type
Prose: fiction: 

Author
Author details
Author id: 17
Forenames: David
Surname: Purves
Gender: Male
Decade of birth: 1920
Educational attainment: University
Age left school: 17
Upbringing/religious beliefs: Protestantism
Occupation: Retired Biochemist
Place of birth: Selkirk
Region of birth: Selkirk
Birthplace CSD dialect area: Slk
Country of birth: Scotland
Place of residence: Edinburgh
Region of residence: Midlothian
Residence CSD dialect area: midLoth
Country of residence: Scotland
Father's occupation: Master Grocer
Father's place of birth: Selkirk
Father's region of birth: Selkirk
Father's birthplace CSD dialect area: Slk
Father's country of birth: Scotland
Mother's occupation: Housewife
Mother's place of birth: Selkirk
Mother's region of birth: Selkirk
Mother's birthplace CSD dialect area: Slk
Mother's country of birth: Scotland

Languages:
Language: English
Speak: Yes
Read: Yes
Write: Yes
Understand: Yes
Circumstances: All circumstances
Language: Scots
Speak: Yes
Read: Yes
Write: Yes
Understand: Yes
Circumstances: