Toom is my Tassie,
O'how I wish it were
Fu' O' Bree,
To take away thy thirst
From my yell throat,
Though cool it may be.
Many days I have traveled
An' been reestit by the sun.
Though my sark covers my back
Still I feel the burn.
Pray not for bield against
the sun, nor for snaw,
but for a Tassie Fu' O' Bree
An' for the winds tae blaw.