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 The Davington Wedding
by Agnes Marchbank

Listen to this story in Real Audio read by Marilyn P Wright

                                        The wifie doon at Davington,
                                        Was unca prood and croose,
                                        And keckling like a tapped hen
                                        Aye but and ben the hoose.
                                        Twenty-seeven kizzens there,
                                        And aunties by the score,
                                        And them that couldna crood the hoose
                                        Just stood ootside the door.
                                        The wifie dunched the auld guidman -
                                        "Eh, but I'm prood," quo' she;
                                        "Though marriage is a solemn thing,
                                        This is a sicht to see."
                                        The bride and groom afore them a'
                                        Stood up - a bonnie pair;
                                        The pride o' Eskdale Muir was she,
                                        He Lang Tam o' Traquair.
                                        "Join hands," cried the minister,
                                        In tones both solemn and slow;
                                        "Will you wed him who holds your hand?"
                                        The lassie answered "No!"
                                        "What ails ye noo?" the wifie cried,
                                        And shook her heid an han',
                                        "Oh, just because I ta'en," said Jean,
                                        "A scunner to the man."
                                        Again they met - the marriage feast
                                        Was heated up again;
                                        The wifie whispered, "Jean, ye ken,
                                        Was fashioned as a hean;
                                        The bizzem's ower her senselessness -
                                        Ay, Ay! - deed, ay! just so!
                                        Losh guid us!" cried she, as the groom
                                        So calmly answered "No!"
                                        The wifie shook her nieve and shrieked,
                                        "What mean ye noo? - ye ass!"
                                        "Oh, just because I've ta'en," said he,
                                        "A scunner to the lass."
                                        And once again they met - and all
                                        Were fully satisfied
                                        That bride and bridegroom now at last
                                        Would be securly tied.
                                         The wifie said she thought the things
                                        Were better than afore,  
                                        As well as was the company
                                        Which numbered o'er threescore.
                                        The minister said,"There ye stan',
                                        Twa swatches o' ae claith,
                                        I'll wed ye nane, for I ha'e ta'en
                                        A scunner tae ye baith." 

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