Robert Burns

Scroggam

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

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