In winter when the rain rain’d cauld,
Will brew’d a peck o’ maut, man;
John Anderson, ye’re turning auld,
Pit a sheep’s-head i’ the pat, man
Dirum dum, &c
The tailor cam to clout tte claise
upon a Lammas night, man,
Which caus’d the battle o’ the fleas,
and shew’d McCraw’s great might, man,
John Tamson at the key hole keeks,
my wife’s a wanton pawkey,
She’s clouting Johnny’s grey dreeks
and Bess she’s but a gawkie.
Dirum dum &c
In Fife there liv’d a wicked wife,
and she has ta’en the gee, man;
The door-barring caus’d the strife,
and Sandy o’er the Lee, man
Tarry woo frae Tweedside came,
frae Aberdeen, cauld kail, man
Made gude Scotch brose to fill our wame,
could Donald McDonald fail, man
Dirum dum, &c
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
sae merry’s we have been, man;
Yet still on Menie’s charms I doat,
at Polwart on the green, man
