The Book of Scottish Song/The weary pund o' tow

The weary pund o' tow.

[The chorus of this song and the tune are old: the rest was furnished by Burns for the Museum.]

The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow;
I thought my wife wad end her life
Before she span her tow.

I bought my wife a stane o' lint,
As good as e'er did grow,
And a' that she could mak' o' that
Was ae weary pund o' tow.
The weary pund, &c.

There sat a bottle in a bole,
Ayont the ingle low,
And aye she took the tither sook,
To drook the stoury tow.
The weary pund, &c.

For shame, said I, you dirty dame,
Gae spin your tap o' tow:
She took the roke, and, wi' a knock,
She brak' it ower my pow.
The weary pund, &c.

At length her feet—I sang to see it-
Gaed foremost ower the knowe;
And ere I wed another jade
I'll wallop in a tow.
The weary pund, &c.

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