4
I ne’er laid money up in store,
Into a hole behind the door,
A shilling, penny, less or more,
I did it scatter;
’Tis just, now, I should drink, therefore,
Sma’ beer or water.
I never sooner siller got,
But a’ my pouches it would plot,
And scorch them sair, it was sae hot;
Then to get clear
Of it, I swill’d it down my throat,
In ale or beer.
Thus, a’ my failing was my glass,
An’ anes, to please a bonny lass,
I, like a silly amorous ass,
Drew forth my gully,
An’ thro’ an’ thro’ at the first pass
Ran Mr. Willy.
Sae for this mad though merry fit,
I was sair vex’d, and forc’d to flit,
They plagu’d me sae wi pay and fit.
Quo’ they, You thief,
How durst you try to steal a bit
Forbidden beef?
O then I humbly plead that vos
Would make it your continual mos,
Wi’ hearts sincere an’ open os,
You’d often pray,
A tali malo libra nos,
O Domine.
