Robert Burns, 1792
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,
2. There sat a bottle in a bole,|
Beyont the ingle low;
And aye she took the tither souk,
To drouk the stourie tow.
3. Quoth I, For shame, ye dirty dame,
4. At last her feet-I sang to see't!
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