The Farmer’s Curst Wife (Child 278B)

The auld Deil cam to the man at the pleugh,
Rumchy ae de aidie
Saying, I wish ye gude luck at the making o yer sheugh.
Mushy toorin an ant tan aira.

‘It’s neither your oxen nor you that I crave;
It’s that old scolding woman, it’s her I must have.’

‘Ye’re welcome to her wi a’ my gude heart;
I wish you and her it’s never may part.’

She jumped on to the auld Deil’s back,
And he carried her awa like a pedlar’s pack.

He carried her on till he cam to hell’s door,
He gaed her a kick till she landed in the floor.

She saw seven wee deils a sitting in a raw,
She took up a mell and she murdered them a’.

A wee reekit deil lookit owre the wa:
‘O tak her awa, or she’ll ruin us a’.’

‘O what to do wi her I canna weel tell;
She’s no fit for heaven, and she’ll no bide in hell.’

She jumpit on to the auld Deil’s back,
And he carried her back like a pedlar’s pack.

She was seven years gaun, and seven years comin,
And she cried for the sowens she left in the pot.