Chapter I

I canna sell the cow and sup her milk.—I hae ither tow on my rock.
I can see as far into a mill-stane as he that pick’d it.
I hae a gude bow, but its in the castle.
I had rather gae by your door than o’er your grave.
I hae got an ill kame for my ain head.
I hae mair ado than a dish to wash.
I hae baith my meat and my mense.
I hae seen mair than I hae eaten, or ye wadna be there.
I ken by my cog my cow’s milked.—I ne’er sat on your coat tale.
I’ll gar his ain gartens tye up his ain hose.
I’ll ne’er lout sae laigh and lift sae little.
I’ll ne’er put the rogue aboon the gentleman.
I’ll ne’er keep a dog and bark mysel.
I’ll tak the best first, as the priest did o’ the plumbs.
I’ll ne’er brew drink to treat drunkards.
I’m o’er auld a cat to draw a strae before.
I’m no sae blind as I’m bleer-ey’d.
I’m nae sae scant o’ clean pipes as to blaw wi’ a burnt cutty.
I’m speaking o’ hay and you o’ horse corn.
I’m neither sma’ drink thirsty, nor grey bread hungry.
I ne’er lo’ed meat that craw’d in my crapin.
I wad be scant o’ claith to sole my hose wi’ dockens.
I wadna fother you for your muck.
I wadna ca the king my cousin tho’ he were my uncle’s son.
I wadna be deav’d wi’ your keckling for a’ your eggs.
I wadna mak fish o’ ane and flesh o’ anither.
I wish you readier meat than a rinning hare.
If ae sheep loup o’er the dike a’ the lave will follow.
_If_ and _and_ spoils mony a gude charter.
If a man gangs down the brae ilk ane gies him a jundie.
If he bind the pock she’ll sit down upon’t.
If he be nae a souter he’s a gude shoe clouter.
If I canna keep geese I’ll keep gaislins.
If I canna do’t by might I’ll do’t by sleight.
If it be a faut it’s nae ferly.—If it winna sell it winna sour.
If stakes be gude to gie they’ll be gude to get.
If the deil be laird ye’ll be tenant.—If ye lo’e me let it kythe.
If the deil find you idle he’ll set you to wark.
If wishes were horses beggars wad ride.
If ye hae little gear guide it the better.
If ye ca’ me scabbed I’ll ca’ you sca’d.
If ye be angry, claw your wame, and cool in the skin ye het in.
If you sell your purse to your wife, gi’e her your brecks to the bargain.
If ye had as little money as ye hae manners, ye wad be the poorest man o’
your kin.
If ye win at whoring ye’ll tine at naething.
If ye serve the tod ye maun bear up his tail.
Ill bairns get ay broken brows.—Ill bairns are best heard at hame.
Ill beef ne’er made good broe.—Ill doers are ay ill dreaders.
Ill counsel will gar a man stick his ain mare.
Ill getting het water frae ’neath cauld ice.—Ill herds mak fat foxes.
Ill hearing maks wrang rehearsing.—Ill news are aft owre true.
Ill laying up maks mony thieves.—Ill payers are ay gude cravers.
Ill to tak and eith to tire.—Ill weeds wax weel.
Ill workers are ay gude to putters.—Ill-will ne’er spak weel.
Ill won gear winna enrich the third heir.—Ill won, as ill wair’d.
It cam wi’ the wind let it gang wi’ the water.
It maun be an auld-farrant mouse that can kittle in a cat’s lug.
It’s a bare moor that ye gang thro’ and no get a heather cow.
It’s a cauld stammock that naething heats on.
It’s a gude goose that draps ay.—It’s a hard task to be poor and leal.
It’s a gude poor man’s blade, it will bow or break.
It’s a lang lane that hasna a turning.
It’s an ill wind that blaws naebody gude.
It’s an ill cause that the lawyers think shame o’.
It’s time to gie owre piping when youv’e lost the upper lip.
It’s an ill pack that’s no worth the custom.
It’s a mean mouse that has but ae hole.—It’s no a’ tint that fa’s by.
It’s a nasty bird fyles its ain nest.—It’s a sin to lie on the deil.
It’s a poor house whare thers’s neither a bairn nor a mouse.
It’s a shame to eat the cow and worry on the tail.
It’s a sorry hen that canna scrape for ae bird.
It’s a sair dung bairn that mayna greet.—It’s gude to be sib to siller.
It’s a’ tint that’s done to auld fo’k and bairns.
It’s but kindly that the pock sa’r of the herring.
It’s better to sup wi’ a cutty than want a spoon.
It’s dear coft honey that’s lick’d aff a thorn.
It’s eith crying Yule on anither man’s stool.
It’s fair in ha’ where beards wag a’.—It’s gude sleeping in a hale skin.
It’s gude maut that comes o’ will.—It’s gude to be side but no trailing.
It’s gude gear that pleases the merchant.
It’s gude to be gude in your time, ye kenna how lang it may last.
It’s gude to hae twa strings to your bow.
It’s hard to gar an auld mare leave aff flinging.
It’s hard to sit in Rome and strive wi the Pope.
It’s hard for a greedy e’e to hae a leal heart.
It’s ill to be ca’d a thief and no found picking.
It’s ill to bring out o’ the flesh what’s bred i’ the bane.
It’s ill getting breeks aff a Higlandman.
It’s ill taking corn frae geese.—It’s no tint that a friend gets.
It’s ill making a silk purse o’ a sows lug, or a touting horn o’ a tods
tail.
It’s ill bringing butt what’s no there ben.
It’s kittle shooting at corbies and clergy.
It’s kittle to waken sleeping dogs.—It’s needless to bid a wren rin.
It’s lang or the deil be found dead at a dike-side.
It’s lang or ye need to cry, shou, to an egg.
It’s lang or like-to-die fill the kirk-yard.
It’s muckle gars the tailor laugh, for suitors girn ay.
It’s needless to pour water on a drown’d mouse.
It’s no the cowl that maks the friar.—It maun be true that a’ fo’k says.
It’s nae sin to tak a gude price, but in gi’ing ill measure.
It’s nae play when ane laughs and anither greets.
It’s no what is she? but what was she?
It’s nae laughing to girn in a widdy.—It’s weel war’d wasters want.
It’s o’er far between the kitchen and the ha’.
It’s o’er late to spare when the bottom’s bare.
It’s past joking when the head’s aff.
It’s weel that our fau’ts are no written on our face.
It’s time enough to skreigh when ye’re strucken.
It’s time enough to mak my bed when I’m gaun to lie down.
It’s lang or four bare legs gather heat in the bed.
It may come in an hour that winna come in seven year.
It will be a feather out o’ your wing.
It sets a sow weel to wear a saddle.
It sets you weel to gab again wi’ your bannet on.
It was ne’er for naething that the gled whistled.

J

Joke at leisure, you kenna wha may joke yoursel’.

K

Kail hains bread.—Kame sindle came sair.—Kamesters are ay creeshy.
Keep woo and it will be dirt, keep lint and it will be silk.
Keep your ain fish guts to your ain sea-maws.
Keep your kill-dry’d taunts to your mouldy-hair’d maidens.
Keep your breath to cool your crowdie.
Keep your mouth close and your een open.
Kindness comes a-will, it canna be coft.
Kindness will creep whare it canna gang.
Kindle a candle at baith ends it will soon be done.
King’s cauff’s worth other fo’ks corn.—Kissing gans by favour.
King’s cheese gaes hauf awa in pairings.
Kiss a carl and clap a carl, and that’s the way to tine a carl.
Kythe in your ain colours that fo’k may ken you.