THE WEARY PUND O'
The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow,
I think my wife will end her life
Before she spin her tow.
I bought my wife a stane o' lint,
As gude as e'er did grow;
And a' that she hae made o' that,
Is ae poor pund o' tow.
There sat a bottle in a bole,
Beyont the ingle lowe ;
And aye she took the tither souk,
To drouk the stourie tow.
Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame,
Gae spin your tap o' tow !
She took the rock and wi' a knock
She brak it o'er my pow.
At last her feet, I sang to see't -
Gaed foremost o'er the knowe;
And 'or I wad another jad,
I'll wallop in a tow.
Footnote : Robert Burns modelled this song on
an older one with the same title.