There were twa doos sat in a dookit;
Twa wise-like birds, and round they luiket;
An' says the ane unto the ither,
What do ye see, my good brither?

I see some pickles o' gude strae,
An' wheat, some fule has thrown away;
For a rainy day they should be boukit.
Sae down they flew frae aff their dookit.

The snaw will come an' cour the grund,
Nae grains o' wheat will then be fund;
They pickt a' up, an' a' were boukit,
Then round an' round, again they luiket.

O lang he thocht, and lang he luiket,
An' aye his wise-like head, he shook it;
I see, I see, what ne'er should be,
I see what's seeb by mair than me.

Wae's me, there's thochtless, lang Tam Grey,
Aye spending what he's no to pay;
In wedlock, to a taupie hookit,
He's taen a doo, but has nae dookit.

When we were young it was na sae;
Nae rummelgumshion folk now hae;
What gude for them can e'er be luiket,
When folk tak' doos that hae nae dookit?