THERES news, lassies, news,
Gude news Ive to tell!
Theres a boatfu o lads
Come to our town to sell.
Chorus.The wean wants a cradle,
And the cradle wants a cod:
Ill no gang to my bed,
Until I get a nod.
Father, quo she, Mither, quo she,
Do what you can,
Ill no gang to my bed,
Until I get a man.
The wean, &c.
I hae as gude a craft rig
As made oyird and stane;
And waly fa the ley-crap,
For I maun tilld again.
The wean, &c.
