For  she  said  her  auld-  bluid  he  just  froze

He  cam'  in  below  the  claes,

And  he  nippit  oor  taes —
And  he  'maist  taen  awa  Bobby's  nose,

Puir  wee  man ;
Sure,  he  couldna  dae  wantin'  his  nose.
And  my  uncle  was  chitterin'  to  death,
And  John  Frost  wadna  let  him  get  breath  ;

And  the  fire  wadna  heat

Uncle's  twa  starvin'  feet.
Till  the  soles  o'  his  socks  were  burned  baith,

Birslet  brown,
And  the  reek  comin'  oot  o'  them  baith.
But  what  brings  John  Frost  here  ava,
Wi'  his  frost  and  his  cranreugh  and  snaw  ?

It's  a  bonny  like  thing  !

He  just  waff  t  his  lang  wing,
And  a'  oor  wee  flowers  flew  awa'.
Every  ane ;
And  Ross's  red  dawlies  and  a'.
236  DAVID    WING  ATE.
And,  mither,  he  gangs  through  the  street,

Just  looking  for  weans  wi'  bare  feet ;
And  he  nips  at  their  heels,
And  the  skin  afif  them  peels.
And  thinks  it's  fine  fun  when  they  greet,
The  auld  loon ;

He  nips  them  the  mair  when  they  greet.
Wi'  his  capers  the  folks  shouldna  thole.
D'ye  ken  ? — He  breathed  in  through  a  hole

Whare  a  wee  lassie  lay.
And  she  dee't  the  next  day,
And  they  laid  her  doun  in  the  kirk-hole,

Puir  wee  lamb —
And  covered  her  in  the  kirk-hole.
But  guess  what  my  auntie  tell't  me  ?
She  says  the  wee  weans,  when  they  dee,

Flee  awa'  owre  the  moon,

And  need  nae  claes  nor  shoon.
To  a  place  whare  John  Frost  they'll  ne'er  see,

Far  awa' —  -
To  a  place  whare  John  Frost  daurna  be.
And  she  says  our  wee  Katie  gaed  there.
And  she'll  never  be  hoastin'  nae  mair.
Sure,  we'll  gang  there  ana'.
