Poem by Robert Burns

The Cardin’ O’t

I COFT a stane o’ haslock woo’,
  To make a coat to Johnny o’t;
For Johnny is my only jo,
  I lo’e him best of ony yet.
    The cardin’ o’t, the spinnin’ o’t;
      The warpin’ o’t, the winnin’ o’t;
    When ilka ell cost me a groat,
      The tailor staw the linin’ o’t.

For though his locks be lyart gray,
  And though his brow be beld aboon;
Yet I hae seen him on a day,
  The pride of a’ the parishen.
    The cardin’ o’t, the spinnin’ o’t,
      The warpin’ o’t, the winnin’ o’t;
    When ilka ell cost me a groat,
      The tailor staw the linin’ o’t.

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