The Bane-Setter.

Oor Jock's gude mither's second man     At banes was unco skilly;     It cam' by heirskep frae an aunt,     Leeb Tod o' Nether Tillie.     An' when he thocht to sough awa',     He sent for Jock, ay did he,     An' wulled him the bane-doctorin',     Wi' a' the lave o's smiddy.     A braw doon-settin' 'twas for Jock,     An' for a while it paid him,     For wi's great muckle nieves like mells     He pit in banes wi' smeddum.     Ay! mony a bane he snappit in     At elbuck, thee, an' shouther;     Gin ony wouldna gang his gait,     Jock dang them a' to poother.     Noo, smiddy wark's a droothy job,     Sae whiles Jock wat his whustle,     When wi' a horse-shoe or a bane     He'd held some unco tussle.     But even though miracklous whiles,     It mattered nane whativer,     For whaur's the body disna ken     A drucken doctor's cliver?     Ae nicht when Jock was gey weel on,     An' warslin' wi' some shoein',     They brocht a bane case intil him     That proved puir Jock's undoin',     A cadger wi' an auld cork leg,     An' fou as Jock or fouer,     Wha swore that o' his lower limb     He'd fairly lost the pooer.     Jock fin's the leg, an' shaks his heid,     Syne tells the man richt solemn,     "Your knee-pan's slippit up your thee     Aside your spinal column;     But gin ye'll tak a seat owre here,     An' lat them haud ye ticht, man,     I'se warrant for a quart o' beer     I'll quickly hae ye richt, man."     Jock yokit noo wi' rale guid wull     To better the condeetion,     While Corkie swore he had his leg     Ca'd a' to crockaneetion.     Jock banned the lamp-"'twas in his een"-     An' deaved wi' Corkie's granin',     Quo' he, "Gin ye'll pit oot the licht     I'll gey sune pit the bane in!"     Oot went the licht, Jock got his grup,     He yarkit an' he ruggit,     He doobled up puir Corkie's leg,     Syne strauchtened it an' tuggit.     An' while that baith the twa o' them     Were sayin' some orra wordies,     Auld Corkie's leg, wi' hauf o's breeks,     Cam' clean aff at the hurdies.     Jock swat wi' fear, an' in the dark     He crep' attour the smiddy,     For, weel-a-wat, he thocht his wark     Would land him on the widdy.     An' wi' the leg he ran till's hoose,     Just half way doon the clachan,     His cronies oxterin' Corkie oot,     An' nearly deein' o' lauchin'.     But at Jock's door they stude an hour,     An' vainly kicked an' knockit,     Sin' Jock, in a' the fear o' death,     Had got it barred an' lockit.     An' 'twas na till the neist forenune     They fand the leg, weel hidden,     For Jock was oot afore daylicht     An' stuck it in the midden.     This feenished Jock, an' efter han'     He buckled til his ain wark,     For sune a' owre the kintra-side     They kent aboot his bane wark,     An' hoo a law-wer fleggit Jock     At Corkie's instigation,     An' gart him pay a five-pun' note     By way o' compensation.     Ne sutor ultra crepidam     Is gude enough for maist o's,     For aye there's wark that's bude to get     The better o' the best o's.     An' just as doctors canna shoe     Or haud a hin' leg stiddy,     Ye needa seek for surgery     Inside a country smiddy.