We're aw feyne fellows roun Torkin;
We're aw guid fellows weel met;
We're aw wet fellows roun Torkin,
Sae faikins we mun hev a swet:
Let's drink to the lasses about us,
'Till day's braid glare bids us start;
We'll sup till the saller be empty--
Come, Dicky lad, boddom the whart.

I'll gi'e ye, says Dick, durty Dinah,
That's ay big wi' bairn fwok suppwose;
She sticks out her lip like a pentes,
To kep what may drop frae her nwose:
Leyke a hay--stack she hoists up ae shouder,
And scarts, for she's nit varra soun:
Wi' legs thick as mill--pwosts, and greasy,
The deevil cud nit ding her down!

We're aw odd fellows roun Torkin;
We're aw larn'd fellows weel met;
We're aw rich fellows roun Torkin,
Sae faikins we mun hev a swet:
Let's drink to the lasses about us,
'Till day's braid glare bids us part;
We'll sup till the saller be empty--
Come, Matthew lad, boddom the whart.

I'll gi'e ye, says Matt, midden Marget,
That squints wi' the left--handed ee;
When at other fellows she's gleymin,
I's freeten'd she's luikin at me:
She smells far stranger than carrion,
Her cheeks are as dark as hung beef,
Her breasts are as flat as a back--buird;
'Mang sluts she's ay counted the chief!

We're aw wise fellows roun Torkin;
We're aw neyce fellows weel met;
We're aw sad fellows roun Torkin,
Sae faikins we mun hev a swet:
Let's drink to the lasses about us,
'Till day's braid glare bids us part;
We'll sup till the saller be empty--
Come, Gwordy lad, boddom the whart.

I'll gi'e ye, says Gworge, geapin Grizzy,
Wi' girt feet and marrowless legs;
Her reed neb wad set fire to brunstone;
Her een are as big as duck eggs:
She's shep'd leyke a sweyne i' the middle,
Her skin freckl'd aw leyke a gleid;
Her mouth's weyde as onie town yubbem,
We're freeten'd she'll swally her heed!

We're aw strang fellows roun Torkin!
We're aw lish fellows weel met;
We're aw top fellows roun Torkin,
Sae faikins we mun hev a swet:
Let's drink to the lasses about us,
'Till day's braid glare bids us start;
We'll sup till the saller be empty--
Come, Wully lad, boddom the whart.

I'll gi'e ye, says Wull, winkin Winny,
That measures exact three feet eight,
But wi' roun--shouder'd Ruth, or tall Tibby,
She'll scart, and she'll girn, and she'll feght;
She's cruik'd as an S--wid a hip out,
Her feet flat and braid, as big fluiks;
Her feace is as lang as a fiddle,
And aw spatter'd owre wi' reed plouks!

We're aw young fellows roun Torkin;
We're aw teeght fellows weel met;
We're aw brave fellows roun Torkin,
Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat:
Let's drink to the lasses about us,
'Till day's braid glare bids us part;
We'll sup till the saller be empty--
Come, Mwosy lad, boddom the whart.

I'll gi'e ye, says Mwose, mantin Matty,
That lisps thro' her black rotten teeth:
You can't catch five words in ten minutes;
If gowlin, she'd flay yen to deeth:
Her feace like auld Nick's nutmig grater,
And yallow neck bitten wi' fleas;
She's troubl'd wi' win ay at meale teymes,
And belshes to give hersel ease!

We're aw cute fellows roun Torkin;
We're aw sharp fellows weel met;
We're aw rare fellows roun Torkin,
Sae faikins we mun hev a swet:
Let's drink to the lasses about us,
'Till day's braid glare bids us part;
We'll sup till the saller be empty--
Come, Nathan lad, boddom the whart.

I'll gi'e ye, says Natt, noisy Nanny,
That chows shag 'bacco for fun;
She cocks her belly when walkin,
And ay luiks down to the grun:
She talks beath sleepin and wakin,
And crowks leyke a tead when she speaks;
On her nwose en the hair grows leyke stibble,
And gravey drops run owre her cheeks!

We're aw teugh fellows roun Torkin;
We're aw rash fellows weel met;
We're aw queer fellows roun Torkin,
Sae faikins we mun hev a swet:
Let's drink to the lang, leame, and lazy,
Deef, dum, black, brown, bleer--e'ed, and blin,
May they suin get weel weddet, and beddet,
If lads they can onie where fin!