Was mans pe traw ta cart himsel’,
Shust ’pon his nain twa feet, man.
Och on! och on! her nainsel’ thought,
As she wad stood and glower, man;
Poor man, if they mak’ you ta horse—
Should gang ’pon a’ your four man.
And when she turn ta corner round,
Ta black man tere she see, man;
Pe grund to music in ta kist,
And sell him for pawpee, man.