The weary pund o' tow

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 has made o' that

Is ae poor pund o' tow. -

The weary pund, the weary pund...

There sat a bottle in a bole,

Beyont the ingle low;

And ay she took the tither souk,

To drouk the stourie tow. -

The weary pund, the weary pund...

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. -

The weary pund, the weary pund...

At last her feet, I sang to see 't,

Gaed foremost o'er the knowe;

And or I wad anither jad,

I'll wallop in a tow. -

The weary pund, the weary pund...