6
TAK 'YOUR AULD CLOKE ABOUT YE.
In winter when the rain rain'd cauld,
And frost and snaw on ilka hill,
And Boreas, wi' his blasts sae bauld,
Was threat'ning a'our kye to kill;
Then Bell, my wife, wha lo'es nae strife,
She said to me right hastily,
Get up gudeman, save Cromie's life
And tak’ your auld cloke about ye.
O Bell why dost thou flyte and scorn?
Thou kens my cloke is very thin:
It is sae bare and overworn,
A cricket thereon canna rin;
Then I'll nae mair barrow nor lend,
For I'll ance mair apparell'd be,
To-morrow I'll to the town and spend
And I'll hae a new cloke abont me.
My Cromie is an useful cow,
And she is come of a good kin',
Aft has she wat the bairns mou',
And I am laith that she should tine;
Get up, gudeman; it is fou time,
The sun shines in the lift sae hie;
Sloth never made a gracions end,
Gae tak' your auld cloke about ye.
My cloke was once a gude grey cloke,
When it was fitting for my wear;
