An’ made me blush wi’ speaking baudy,
’Bout what befel.
Thus auld an’ young their verdict had,
’Bout Maggy’s being brought to bed,
I thought my fill, yet little said,
Or had to say,
To reap the fruit o’ sic a trade,
On gude-yule day.
What sometimes in the mou’ is sweet,
Turns bitter in the wame;