It's no rosten a' day like yours, till it's birstled (scorched) and sung (singed) like a sheep's.

Jist gie me a haud o' the taings, an' I s' set my sock to my ain min'." Peter gave up the tongs at once, and the young fellow proceeded to put the share in the fire, and to work the bellows.
"Ye'll never mak ony thing o' 't that gait," said Peter, as he took the tongs from his hand, and altered the position of the share for him.

"Ye wad hae 'it black upo' ae side and white upo' the ither.

Noo ca (drive) steady, an' dinna blaw the fire aff o' the forge." But when it came to the anvil part of the work, Peter found so many faults with the handling and the execution generally, that at length the lad threw down the tongs with a laugh and an oath intermingled, saying: "Ye can mak' potty o' 't yersel, than, Peter .-- Ye jist min' me o' the Waesome Carl." "What's that o' 't, Rory, man ?" "Ow! naething but a bit sang that I cam' upo' the ither day i' the neuk o' an auld newspaper." "Lat's hear't," said Peter.

"Sing't, Rory.