Scoor oot ‘e cowgie, o’,
Sweel oot ‘e cowgie, o’,
For waarm milk for ‘e peedie calf,
‘At’s stanan in ‘e byrie, o’.………………
A bonnie beystie, weel-haired,
Fa leks til sook yer fingers, o’,
He’ll dance weel at ‘e tether’s end,
An’ kick his heels wi’ muckle glee.
Wi’ subsidy he’s worth a
So gae him plenty for his bowg,
Tae fit him for ‘e clover field,
An’ feeds o’ neeps and tatties, tae.
He’s got his mither’s
His faither’s curly swishan tail,
Nae pedigree is his by birth,
Bit, a’ ‘e same, he’s comely sae.
He’s short o’ horn, a
Nae Hielan blood is in his veins,
His shapely leigs an’ chownky frame
Are chist ‘e things til mak’ a stot.
At auction mart he’ll cut a
Fan grown a muckle stirkie, o’,
Sae deep o’ flank an’ straicht o’ back,
He’ll bring us mony bawbees in.
Looks as if this was intended to be sung to the tune of “Green Grow
the Rashes, O’ “ - JP