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Auld baudrons by the ingle sits,
An' wi' her loof her face a-washin;
But Willie's wife is nae fae trig,
She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion;
Her walie neives like midden creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan-water
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

 

The Land o' the Leal.

I'm wearing awa, Jean,
Like snaw when its thaw, Jean,
I'm wearing awa
To the land of the leal.
There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
There's nae cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is ave fair
In the land o' the leal.

Ye were aye leal an' true, Jean,
Your task's ended now, Jean,
An' I'll welcome you
To the land o' the leal.
Our bonny bairn's there, Jean,
She was baith gude and fair, Jean,
An' we grudged her right fair
To the land o' the leal.