3
An Wattie he sat in the ale house,
and hard at the bicker did ca',
Sae nicely as Maggie sat by him;
he took the pint-stoup in his arms,
Quo' he, I think they're right saucy,
that lo'es sa good father's bairns.
Sing fal de ral la de.
But now it grew late i' the eening,
and bughting time was drawing near;
The lasses had stanch'd a' their greening,
wi' south o' bra' apples and pears;
There's Tibbie and Sibbie, and Lillie,
wha weel on the spindle can spin,
Stood glowring at signs and glass winnocks,
but fiend a ane bade them come in.
Sing fal de ral la de.
Gosh guides did you e'er see the like o't,
see yonders a bonny black swan,
It looks as it fain wou'd be at us
what's yon that it has in it's han',
Awa' daft gow'k, quo' Wattie,
It's nane but a rickle o' sticks,
See herh's the deil and Bell Hawkie,
and yonder's Mess James and Auld Nick,
Sing fal de ral, la de.
