%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A DIALOGUE between George Fachney and Alexan- / der Pennicuik. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1722-1722 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/08/2012 32427

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

N1207 AE Time our Poet met wi' Fackney, / Whom he ance cau'd the Devil's Hackney Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 180198 A DIALOGUE between George Fachney and Alexan- / der Pennicuik. A DIALOGUE between George Fachney and Alexan- der Pennicuik. A DIALOGUE between George Fachney and Alexander Pennecuik. 1722-1722

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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A DIALOGUE between <hi rend="bold">George Fachney</hi> and <hi rend="bold">Alexan-</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">der Pennicuik.</hi></hi></seg>
AE Time our Poet met wi Fackney, Whom he ance caud the Devils Hackney And fearing lest he shoud him quarrel, He hid himsel behind a Barrel. Now ye maun ken that he was drinking, Which he did ay whans Pouch was clinking. Then Geordie raisd a hideous Roar, And cryd, hes here, lets close the Door. He then fell to, to curse and ban, And in great Rage he thus began. GEORDIE. Now you base Scoundrel I have got ye, And be my Suth I winna quat ye, Till Im revengd on your dull Snout, For all these Lees thats gaun about; Ye was the Author I can swear, And for the same yes now pay dear. SANDY. Dear Sir, what gars you curse and ban? I neer did Harm to ony Man; I hated Quarrels a my Life, And lived always free of Strife; But you have put me in sick Fright, Ill kiss your A------se if yell me quit: And if of you Ive said ought ill, For that Ill now come in your Will. GEORDIE. I winna take sick sham Excuses Frae ony Man wha me abuses; Theres nane in Scotland, but what kens That ye hae gien me just Offence; Yeve publishd mony a lying Story, Thinking thereby to gain some Glory; And for to win a half a Crown, Yeve made my Name ring through the Town; Now in my Rage Ill on you fall, And pay ye soundly ance for all. SANDY. For my Wifes sake, let me a-be, And nae mae of my Lines yes see. If ye shoud take my scoundrel Life, What wad become of Bairns and Wife? A that I wrote was to get Bread, Or else I swear wed a been dead. GEORDIE. Whats that to me, ye silly Devil! If ye had been discreet and civil, Or if yed come and said to me, Dear Fackney I am like to die,
I want some Cash to buy my Dinner, I wad hae gien yet, drunken Sinner. SANDY. Rather than trouble any Man, I wad use a the Means I can; But now to you, upon my Knees, I will confess my former Lies, And tho I shoud neer gain a Farthin, Ill own my Fault, and crave ye Pardon. GEORDY. A that is no enough to me, Yer Crimes sae great ye ought to die; For first of a, to win some Bodles, Ye said I burnt a Burgers Dodles: You base Whores Son, as langs I live These horrid Lies Ill neer forgive. Your Tears shall not your Crime attone, My P---k you said was naild to Trone; And then upon the Gallowlee You hanged baith Burnbank and me: And now of late, to my Amazement, Youve put me in Caldwells Regiement; And for to make your Nonsense pass, You stole your Rhimes from Hudibrass. For all these Faults now put together, Altho ye were my only Brother, Ye soud na stir out frae this Place, Tho it soud be to my Disgrace, Id make you for your Folly smart, And make my Sword run through your Heart. But seeing you my Pardon crave, And own yourself my humble Slave, Ill grant unto you your Petition, And save your Life on this Condition, That if ye eer again proclaim, Or publish through the Streets my Name, In ony Paper, Verse or Prose, Yell be content to lose yer Nose. SANDY. Content, quoth Sandy, if I do, May I be scurgd and hanged too. After this lang Debate and Quarrel, Sandy came out frae hind the Barrel; Syne baith the twa sat down together, And kisst and clapt ilk ane anither; And then fell to and drank sae clean, Till baith of them maist tint their Een; In short they baith fell to to spew, Well leave them here, and bid adieu.
FINIS.