Ye’ll wanner on, an’ on, an’ on,
Through miles an’ miles o’ men, man,
An’ yet in a’ the crood like yon
There’s de’il a face ye’ll ken, man.
Na! Lunnon’s oot the warl’, ye see,
For look ye, I’ll be sworn, man,
Sic unco things could never be
In ceevilised Kinghorn, man.
The shops? Ou, aye, there’s shops indeed,
But faith, they’re rale unhaundy: