大象传媒

There's news, lasses, news,
Gude news I've to tell,
There's a boatfu' o' lads
Come to our town to sell.

The wean wants a cradle,
An' the cradle wants a cod,
An' I'll no gang to my bed,
Until I get a nod.

Father, quo' she, Mither, quo she,
Do what you can,
I'll no gang to my bed,
Till I get a man.

The wean wants a cradle,
An' the cradle wants a cod,
An' I'll no gang to my bed,
Until I get a nod.

I hae as gude a craft rig
As made o' yird and stane;
And waly fa' the ley-crap,
For I maun till't again.

The wean wants a cradle,
An' the cradle wants a cod,
An' I'll no gang to my bed,
Until I get a nod.