"Cast your breeches at it!" The goodman shied his breeches, and had
nearly smothered it. But it wriggled out and ran, and the goodman after
it without his breeches; and there was a clean chase over the craft
park, and in among the whins; and the goodman lost it, and had to come
away, trotting home half naked. But now it was grown dark, and the wee
bannock couldn't see; but it went into the side of a big whin bush, and
into a fox's hole. The fox had had no meat for two days. "O welcome,
welcome," quoth the fox, and snapped it in two in the middle. And that
was the end of the wee bannock.




Johnny Gloke


Johnny Gloke was a tailor by trade, but like a man of spirit he grew
tired of his tailoring, and wished to follow some other path that would
lead to honour and fame. But he did not know what to do at first to gain
fame and fortune, so for a time he was fonder of basking idly in the sun
than in plying the needle and scissors. One warm day as he was enjoying
his ease, he was annoyed by the flies alighting on his bare ankles. He
brought his hand down on them with force and killed a goodly number of
them. On counting the victims of his valour, he was overjoyed at his
success; his heart rose to the doing of great deeds, and he gave vent to
his feelings in the saying:--

"Well done! Johnny Gloke,
Kilt fifty flies at one stroke."