Classic Poem

There 's news, lasses, news,
Gude news I've to tell,
There 's a boatfu' o' lads
Come to our town to sell.

Chorus The wean wants a cradle,
An' the cradle wants a cod,
An' I'll no gang to my bed
Until I get a nod.

Father, quo' she, Mither, quo' she,
Do what ye can,
I'll no gang to my bed
Till I get a man.
The wean &c.

I hae as gude a craft rig
As made o' yird and stane;
And waly fa' the ley-crap
For I maun till 't again.
The wean &c.