Aye mon, it's true; I'm no' that weel.
Close prisoner to my lord the de'il;
As weak's a bit o' aipple peel,
Or ingan parin',
Packed like a codfish in a creel,
I lie disparin'.

Mon, it's a cur-ous thing to think
How bodies sleep and eat and drink;
I'm no' that weel, but micht be waur
An' doubt na mony bodies are.