The Weary Pund O Tow
the weary pund o' tow
chorus.—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 puir pund o' tow.
the weary pund, c.
there sat a bottle in a bole,
beyont the ingle low;
and aye she took the tither souk,
to drouk the stourie tow.
the weary pund, c.
h 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, c.
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, c.