When I was single, I rid a feyne naig,
And was caw'd the Buck o' Kingwatter;
Now the cwoat o' my back hes got but ae sleeve,
And my breeks are aw in a tatter.

Sing, Oh! the lasses! the lazy lasses!
Keep frae the lasses o' Branton!
I ne'er wad ha'e married, that day I married,
But I was young, feulish, and wanton.

I courted a lass--an angel I thought--
She's turn'd out the picture of evil;
She geapes, yen may count ev'ry tuith in her head,
And shouts, fit to freeten the deevil.
Sing, Oh, the lasses, &c.

To--day she slipt out, some 'bacco to buy,
And bade me mind rock the cradle;
I cowp'd owre asleep, but suin she com in,
And brak aw my head wi' the ladle.
Sing, Oh! the lasses, &c.

I ne'er hed a heart to hannel a gun,
Or I'd run away, and leave her.
She pretends to win purns, but that's aw fun,
They say she's owre kind wi' the weaver.
Sing, Oh! the lasses, &c.

I dinnerless gang ae hawf o' the week;
If we get a bit meat on a Sunday,
She cuts me nae mair than wad physic a sneype;
Then we've tatey and point ev'ry Monday.
Sing, Oh! the lasses, &c.

Tho' weary o' leyfe, wi' this gud--for--nought weyfe,
I wish I cud get sec anudder;
And then I cud gi'e the deevil the teane,
For teakin away the tudder!
Sing, Oh! the lasses! the lazy lasses!
Beware o' the lasses o' Branton!
I ne'er wad ha'e married, that day I married,
But I was young, feulish, and wanton.