Beef, bacon, and butter, he eats;
And ne’er hunts for a mouse nor a rat,
But sups upon savory meats.
He has lunch’d up two large lamb legs,
Of our bannocks he’s not left a bit;
And has scar’d the old hen off her eggs,
And she’s drown’d in the kirn-milk kit.
He mucks in our mickle meal-chest,
He spews in the cistern of salt;
In our kale-pot and cogies he’s piss’d,