As I came in by Fisherrow

Musselburgh was near me:

I threw off my mussle-pock

And courted wi' my dearie.

 

Chorus :

Up stairs, down stairs,

Timber stairs fears me,

I thought it lang to lie my lane,

When I'm sae near my dearie.

 

Oh had her apron bidden doun,

The kirk wad ne'er has kend it,

But since the word's gane thro' the toun,

My dear, I canna mend it.

 

But ye maun mount the cutty-stool

And I maun mount the pillar,

And that's the way that poor folks do,

Because they hae nae siller.