Here's wee Tam aside the fire,
Soun' as soun' can be,
Tangs across his wee fat legs,
Heid upon his knee.
Wauken, Tam; you'll burn your croon—
Canna hear what's said—
Mammy's unco wearit wean—
Pit him to his bed.
Come his wa's on mammy's knee—
What a heavy lump—
Claes a' wat wi' makin' dams
Roun' aboot the pump;
Glaur frae very heid to fit
Wi' rinnin', micht an' main,
Efter coudlin' paper boats
Sailin' doon the drain.
Pit his buits upon the stule,
See they're through the taes,
Hing his stockin's owre the swey,
But dinna heed his claes.
I maun wash this very nicht—
Od, the dirty loon,
I wad skelp his doup if he
Werena sleepin' soun'.
Here's a naked man at last
Ready for a scrub,
A' owre frae the heid to fit—
Bring the washing tub.
There noo he's as ticht an' clean
As ony could desire,
Rin an' fetch his red nicht goon,
An' heat it at the fire.
Wauken, Tam, an' say your prayer—
See, he screws his face,
Mummles, 'Now I lay me down—
I beat big Jock a race.'
Losh me, what is this I hear
Frae the heathen limb?
But askin' sic a plague to pray
Makes me waur than him.

Spread the blankets doon, I say,
An' wheel the chair aboot,
Here I'm comin' wi' a man
Fairly fochten oot.
There he's in amang the claes,
Ye scarce can see his croon;
Mammy's unco wearit wean
Cuddles safe an' soun'.