Robert Burns Poems

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THERE was a wife wonn’d in Cockpen,
Scroggam;
She brew’d gude ale for gentlemen;
Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.


The gudewife’s dochter fell in a fever,
Scroggam;
The priest o’ the parish he fell in anither;
Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.


They laid the twa i’ the bed thegither,
Scroggam;
That the heat o’ the tane might cool the tither;
Sing auld Cowl, lay ye down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.

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