Before she spin her tow.
I bought my wife a stane o' lint stone, flax
As gude as e'er did grow; good
And a' that she has made o' that,
Is ae poor pund o' tow. one
There sat a bottle in a bole, niche
Beyond the ingle lowe, chimney flame
And aye she took the tither souk other suck
To drouk the stowrie tow. drench, dusty
Quoth I, ‘For shame, ye dirty dame,