As I came in by Fisherrow,|
Musselburgh was near me;
I threw off my mussel pock
And courted wi' my deary.
Up stairs, doon stairs,
Timmer stairs fears me,
I thought it lang to lie my lane
When I'm sae near my deary.
O had her apron bidden doon,|
The kirk wad ne'er hae kend it,
But since the word's gane through the toon,
My dear, I canna mend it.
But ye maun mount the cutty-stool
And I maun mount the pillar,
And that's the way the poor folks dae,
Because they hae nae siller.
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