Sic a wife as Willie’s Wife
Willie Wastle dwalls on Tweed,
The spot they ca’ it Linkumdoddie;
A creeshie wabster till his trade,
Can steal a clue wi’ ony body:
He has a wife that’s dour and din,
Tinkler Madgie was her mither;
Sic a wife as Willie’s wife,
I wadna gie a button for her.
She has an e’e, she has but ane,
Our cat has twa, the very colour;
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller:
A whiskin beard about her mou,
Her nose and chin they threaten ither;
Sic a wife as Willie’s wife,
I wad na gie a button for her.
She’s bow-hough’d, she’s hem-shin’d,
Ae limpin leg a hand-bread shorter;
She’s twisted right, she’s twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter:
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o’ that upon her shouther;
Sic a wife as Willie’s wife,
I wad na gie a button for her.
Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,
An wi’ her loof her face a washin;
But Willie’s wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her grunzie wi’ a hushian:
Her waly nieves like midden-creels,
Her feet wad fyle the Logan-water;
Sic a wife as Willie’s wife,
I wad na gie a button for her.
