Not mine to let the hair grow long, and talk In raptured accents of the Higher Things, Of all the purple Polyanthus bears, And beating wings. (Oh no! Nothing of that sort!) ...
Oor Jock's gude mither's second man At banes was unco skilly; It cam' by heirskep frae an aunt, Leeb Tod o' Nether Tillie. An' when he thocht to sough awa', He sent for Jock, ay did he,...
Noo, ye'll no' tak' it ill o' me, Mistress Macqueen, For ye ken ye are juist a young kimmer, An' I am a mither that's beerit fourteen, An' forty year mairrit come simmer;...