human
That man's sic a muckle sumph, he's no afeard o' onything, said Mrs. Mackenzie, the dragoon's little drunken wife.
gpt
The night o' the storm he must put his heid above the gangway to spier about it; and sic a glour as he gied at the sea, I'se never forget to my deein day. 'What's a' this muckle din?' quo' he. 'Why, man, we are a' like to be drown'd in the salt brine. It's an awfu' storm,' said my husband--'Come up, an' lend a han' wi' the ropes.'