The crier sounds a flourish on that delightful sonorous instrument,
the bagpipe, then loquitor, "Tak tent a' ye land louping hallions, the
meickle deil tamn ye, tat are within the bounds. If any o' ye be foond
fishing in ma Lort Preadalpine's gruns, he'll be first headit, and syne
hangit, and syne droom't; an' if ta loon's bauld enough to come bock
again, his horse and cart will be ta'en frae him; and if ta teils' sae
grit wi' him tat he shows his ill faurd face ta three times, far waur
things wull be dune till him. An noo tat ye a' ken ta wull o' ta lairt,
I'll e'en gang hame and sup my brose."
* * * * *