The auld mou’d wives thus did me taunt,
Though a’ was true, I must needs grant,
But ae thing maistly made me faint,
Poor Meg lay still,
An’ look’d as loesome as a saint
That kend nae ill.
Then a’ the giglets young and gaudy,
Sware by their sauls, I might be wady,
For getting sic a lusty laddy,
Sae like mysell;