Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 366. Song—The weary Pund o’ Tow |
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| Chorus.—The weary pund, the weary pund, | |
| The weary pund o’ tow; | |
| I think my wife will end her life, | |
| Before she spin her tow. | |
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| I BOUGHT my wife a stane o’ lint, | 5 |
| As gude as e’er did grow, | |
| And a’ that she has made o’ that | |
| Is ae puir pund o’ tow. | |
| The weary pund, &c. | |
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| There sat a bottle in a bole, | 10 |
| Beyont the ingle low; | |
| And aye she took the tither souk, | |
| To drouk the stourie tow. | |
| The weary pund, &c. | |
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| Quoth I, For shame, ye dirty dame, | 15 |
| Gae spin your tap o’ tow! | |
| She took the rock, and wi’ a knock, | |
| She brak it o’er my pow. | |
| The weary pund, &c. | |
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| At last her feet—I sang to see’t! | 20 |
| Gaed foremost o’er the knowe, | |
| And or I wad anither jad, | |
| I’ll wallop in a tow. | |
| The weary pund, &c. | |
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