Fyle wirkin in the kitchie auld Maggie is sae happy
By-aa-kin guid baps an braddies fur her Jimmy's birthday;
Rowlin oot the pastry an fullin them sae tent'ly
She weel kens she maun pit 'em in the oven smertly.
Jimmy 'tho noo sixty is muckle hale an herty,
Plooin-up thur wee bit feedle, harra-in it naitly;
Aye plantin oot his tatties an happin 'em sae tent'ly,
Sae saff they wull bide fan it's weet an freesty tee.
Lowsin fan the sin draps, they rist whiles in the ingle,
An smell baps an tee the braddies makin tummies ru-um-ble;
Apenin the oven peer Maggie leuks disgruntled,
Fur there she fins her by-aa-kin's geen aa brunt'd!
Tirnin roon tae Jimmy she's greetin an she's shakin,
An crees, "I've gaan an I've spyled aa yer birthday's by-aa-kin."
"Dinna ye be fashed ma lass, jist ye come tae me,
We'll pit oan the biler fur a cuppa tea."
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