Air—“Whistle an I'll come tae you, my lad.”
COME hame tae your lingels, ye ne'er-do-weel loon,
You're the king o the dyvours, the tauk o the toun ;
Sae soon as the Munonday mornin comes in,
Your wearifu daidlin again maun begin.
Guidwife, ye're a skillet, your tongue's jist a bell,
Tae the peace o guid fallows it rings the death knell ;
But clack till ye deafen auld Barnaby's mill,
The souter shall aye hae his Munonday's yill.
Addition to the above fragment by Alexander Rodger :—
“Come hame tae your lapstane, come hame tae your last,
It's a bonnie affair that your family maun fast,
While you an your crew here a-drinkin maun sit,
Ye dazed, drucken, guid-for-nocht heir o the pit ;
Just look, how I'm gaun without stockin or shae,
Your bairns a in tatters, and faitherless tae,
And yet, quite content, like a sot, yell sit still,
Till your kyte's like tae crack, wi your Munonday's yill.
I tell you, guidwife, gin ye haudna your clack,
I'll lend you a reistle wi this, owre your back ;
Maun we be abused and affrontet by you,
Wi siccan foul names as loon, dyvour, an crew?
Come hame tae your lingels, this instant come hame,
Or I'll redden your face, gin ye've yet ony shame,
For I'll bring a the bairns, and we'll just hae our fill,
As weel as yoursel, o your Munonday's yill.
Gin that be the gait o't, sirs, come let us stir,
What need we sit here tae be pestered by her ?
For she'll plague an affront us as far as she can :
Did ever a woman sae bother a man?
Frae yillhouse tae yillhouse she'll after us rin,
An raise the hail toun wi her yelpin an din ;
Come ! ca the guidwife, bid her bring in the bill:
I see I maun quat takin Munonday's yill.”
[Semple 151]