An' her clish-ma-clavers gang a' thro' the town,
An' the wee lairdie trows I 'll hang or I 'll drown;
Wi' his gawkie like face yestreen he did say,
"I 'll maybe tak' you, for Bess I 'll no hae,
Nor Mollie, nor Effie, nor long-legged Jeanie,
Nor Nellie, nor Katie, nor skirlin' wee Beenie."
I stoppet my ears, ran off in a fury—
I'm thinkin' to bring them before Judge and Jury.
For oh, what a randy old Lucky is she, etc.
Frien's, gie yere advice—I 'll follow yere counsel.