In comes a gawsie, gash guidwife, jolly, sensible
An' sits down by the fire,
Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife; Then, cheese
The lasses they are shyer.
The auld guidmen, about the grace,
Frae side to side they bother,
Till some are by his bonnet lays,
An' gi'es them't like a tether, rope
Fu' lang that day.
Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass, Alas!