The weary pund, the weary pund, The weary pund o' tow; I think my wife will end her life, Before she spin her tow. I bought my wife a stane o' lint, 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. There sat a bottle in a bole, Beyont the ingle low; And aye she took the tither souk, To drouk the stourie tow. The weary pund, &c. Quoth I, For shame, ye dirty dame, 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. At last her feet -- I sang to see't! Gaed foremost o'er the knowe, And or I wad anither jad, I'll wallop in a tow. The weary pund, &c. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO PFRIMMER (LINES ON READING 'DRIFTWOOD') by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LEINSTER by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL LOVE AND AGE by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK DEATH AT DAYBREAK by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: COUNTENANCE FOREBODING EVIL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |