You pay nae heed but plop me in,
Syne shove me oot, and winna be din,
—Owre and owre, the same auld trick,
Cratur withoot climateric!...
“Noo Cutty Sark’s tint that ana,
And dances in her skin—Ha! Ha!
I canna ride awa’ like Tam,
But e’en maun bide juist whaur I am.
I canna ride—and gin I could,
I’d sune be sorry I hedna stood,