Page 23 of Beware A Wallflower's Wrath
“I wasna expecting ye to have such skill. I havena had as good a brawl in weeks.” Lachlan slapped on the back this time. “I thank ye.”
“What now?” asked Robert, wondering if these men would ever make sense to him.
“We drink!” the cousins cried in unison. And the crowd of spectators cheered in agreement.
Two hours later
Robert decided the MacNaughtons were the best of men.
“Another ditty,” called Lachlan, holding up his bumper, the ale sloshing over the top and splattering down his shirt and waistcoat. He pushed his auburn hair from his eyes. “Colin, a round of Barley Mow!”
Robert groaned as others in the room cheered. He was a wee too much in his cups for this tavern song, but he’d do his best. If the participants couldn’t finish the chorus in one breath, they had to drink. So be it.
Colin stood and turned to face all the patrons. In a deep bass, he began:
Here's good luck to the pint pot,
Good luck to the barleymow.
Jolly good luck to the pint pot,
Good luck to the barleymow.
Then everyone joined in:
Oooh, the pint pot, Half a pint,
Gill, Half a gill, Quarter gill,
Nipperkin,
Then the brown bowl.
Here's good luck, good luck,
Good luck to the barleymow.
Robert made it to “brown bowl” and ran out of air. “Again,” he cried, slamming his bumper on the table. He was sure he could do it on the next round.
Two hours later
The three men stumbled along Trongate, Colin still mumbling a tavern song and Lachlan mumbling for him to stop his blethering. Robert was between them. He’d insisted he didn’t need the help, but when they let go of him, his body seemed to slip toward the ground.
“I hafff anutter joke,” he declared to his newfound friends.
“Och, no. I canna take annnother,” argued Lachlan.
“Ye’re a bloody gomerel if ye think they’re amusing,” agreed Colin.
“One mmmore,” Robert insisted, wondering again why he seemed to be the only one bosky when they had all dipped too deep. “I saved the best for last. Rrrready? Two hats were hangin’ on coat rrrack. One said, ‘You stay here, I’ll go on a head.”
Lachlan groaned. “Tell me ye dinna repeat these when ye’re sober.”
“Colin’s lafffing,” Robert retorted.
“I’m laughing at ye laughing at yer own joke, ye blethering eejit.”
That sent all three of them into loud guffaws.
