There's news, lasses, news

There's news, lasses, news,

Gude news I've to tell,

There's a boatfu' o' lads

Come to our town to sell.

The wean wants a cradle,

An' the cradle wants a cod,

An' I'll no gang to my bed,

Until I get a nod.

Father, quo' she, Mither, quo she,

Do what you can,

I'll no gang to my bed,

Till I get a man.

The wean wants a cradle,

An' the cradle wants a cod,

An' I'll no gang to my bed,

Until I get a nod.

I hae as gude a craft rig

As made o' yird and stane;

And waly fa' the ley-crap,

For I maun till't again.

The wean wants a cradle,

An' the cradle wants a cod,

An' I'll no gang to my bed,

Until I get a nod.