Read Online Jack and the Devil's Purse by Duncan Williamson - Free Book Online Page B

they say, you know!
    The minister says, ‘Do you take this hen to be your lawfully married wife?’
    And Jack said, ‘Yes!’
    ‘Well,’ the minister said, ‘have you got the ring?’
    And Jack says, ‘Yes!’ And he put the ring over the wee hen’s foot.
    ‘To love and keep and hold and cherish for ever and ever and ever till death do you part?’ said the minister.
    Jack said, ‘To love and hold and cherish and to keep till death do us part.’
    He said, ‘
Now I pronounce you hen and husband.’
    And like
that
. . . a grey smoke arose where the wee hen was. And it got dark inside the church. People stood up and started to cry. But then as fast as the smoke came the smoke vanished. There beside Jack, standing with her arm linked to his, was the most beautiful young woman anyone had ever seen in all their life! Beautiful dark hair, long dark dress.
    And Jack put his arms around her and he kissed her. The old farmer and the old wife didn’t know what to do!
    So that night they all met in the farmhouse and they had a great-going party. And usually when there are parties in the house and everyone’s happy, someone has to tell a story. So Willie told his story and everybody listened about going to the cobbler. And Sandy told his story. But the most interesting story told that night was Jack’s story, how he had met his wife, the wee black hen!
    So the next morning after everything was squared up, Sandy said goodbye to his mother and father. He had a farm of his own; he didn’t want his father’s.
    Willie said to his father, ‘Father, it’s no good to me. I’m going back to my cobbler shop. I’d rather have my shop.’ He loved his cobbling shop.
    ‘Well, Jack,’ he says, ‘you not only got the bonniest wife, you’re entitled to the farm!’
    Jack said, ‘No, Father, it’s no use to me. You keep it, Father! And when you retire, Father, sell it and give the money to the church to share among the poor folk. Because I’m not needing it!’
    So the next day Jack and his young wife bade farewell to their mother and father. With a faithful promise the mother and father said they would come and visit, come and stay with Jack and his wife when they sold the farm. Because there was plenty of room in the big house.
    And Jack went back to the big house with his young wife and there he stayed. He never needed to work because he had plenty, plenty money. But now and again he would always go with his friend the old farmer and give him a wee help. Because after all, he was suffering from a broken leg that was only newly mended!
    That’s old Willie Williamson’s story. He was a cousin of my father’s who stayed around Dunbartonshire, but always came to Argyllshire in the summertime. Across the burn from my father’s barricade he would build his bow tents and fire. In the evenings we would sit and listen to his piping and singing and his great storytelling.

The Beatin’ Stick
    Jack lived with his mother a long, long time ago. And his mother used to tell him all these wonderful stories at nighttime. Jack worked hard. He was a butcher by trade. He brought home plenty of meat to his mother, and they were well off. But one night he came home and brought plenty of food to his mother. And she was sitting. She seemed very downhearted.
    He says, ‘Mother, what’s the trouble, what’s wrong with you?’
    ‘Well, son, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking about my old sister.’
    ‘Mother, your what?’
    ‘My old sister, Jack – your auntie.’
    ‘My auntie, Mother? I never knew I had an auntie.’
    ‘Oh Jack, aye, my son, you’ve an auntie. And she’s a long, long way frae here. I think she’s no keeping very well. She’s in trouble somehow.’
    ‘Mother, how could you think that?’
    ‘Well, Jack, you dinnae ken, it’s a long story. Me and your auntie are twins, twin sisters. And she was forced to flee awa frae this country when she was young because people thocht she was working with the devil,
black