As I cam in
by Fisherrow, Musselburgh was near me
I threw off my mussel-pock and courted wi my deary
Up stairs, doon stairs timmer stairs fears me
I thought it lang to lie my lane when Im sae near my deary.
O had her apron bidden doon, the kirk wad neer hea kent it
But since the words gane through the toon, my dear, I canna mend it
But ye maun mount the cutty-stool and I maun mount the pillar
And thats the way the poor folks dea, because they hae nae siller.