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Poor simple youth, I had nae skill,
But thought that she was like mysel',
For love and unity, man.

But when the fatal knot was tied
I found I was betray'd, man,
For she was fill'd wi' nought but strife,
And foolish empty pride, man;
I sit as mute as ony sot,
Wi' no a word out o' my throat,
Till o'er my head the chamber pot
In twenty pieces it is broke,
And then I'm forc'd to flee, man

And if her wants I can't supply,
She'll flee like fire on me, man;
And let the pinch be ne'er so great,
She cries aloud for tea, man:
And if I bid her gang to work,
She flies at me just like a Turk,
Wi' venom she could cut my throat,
Or shoot me dead upon the spot,
She's fill'd wi' cruelty man.

But, Jamie, when ye wale a wife,
Lay beauty a' aside, man,
The pleasures o' a virtuous wife
Are beyond a bonny bride, man.
Think on their wild deceitfu' ways,
Their painted cheeks and bonny claes,