Half-seas-ower wis his hoose
Like a dreep on the drap,
A tummelt-doon dyke
Wi a lum at its tap.

There wis stew on the mantlepiece
Strae on the rug
An the lino wis near as moth-etten's the dug.

Its maister, auld Will, hid the face o a rat
His jaiket wis chattered — as mildew'd the mat —
Ye kent whaur ye stude, in the hairt o the man,
B' the size o yer glaiss, as he poored oot a dram.

If the biggin wis bauchelt, the dug it wis waur,
Cross-eed wi a coat that wis taiglit wi glaur
It fleched, an it boasted, an thumpit its tail,
Faith — there wisna wan teeth in its heid that wis hale!

There wis jist the ae thing drave the dug frae its seat,
The smaaest suspicion a bikk wis in heat.
It took efter its maister — auld Will, in his prime,
Gaed heels-ower tip at the thocht o a quine.
He'd beeriet twa wives — an it micht hae bin richt,
In his hay-day, he boasted, he ne'er missed a nicht!

Frae the time that their nuptials wis chimed on the steeple,
He'd keepit them happy's a blaik amang treacle.
Dug, maister, an hoose,
Cockin squar till the weather,
Three auld farrant cronies
Gaun doonhill thegither.