The Weary Pund O' Tow (Poem by Robert Burns)

Classic Poem

The Weary Pund O' Tow (1)
By Robert Burns


The weary pund, the weary pund,
    The weary pund o’ tow:
I think my wife will end her life
    Before she spin her tow.

I bought my wife a stane o’ lint
    As gude as e’er did grow;
And a’ that she has made o’ that,
    Is ae poor pund o’ tow.


The Weary Pund O' Tow (2)


There sat a bottle in a bole,
    Beyont the ingle low,
And ay she took the tither souk,
    To drouk the stowrie tow.


The Weary Pund O' Tow (3)


Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame,
    Gae spin your tap o’ tow!
She took the rock, and wi’ a knock
    She brak it o’er my pow.


The Weary Pund O' Tow (4)


At last her feet — I sang to see’t —
    Gaed foremost o’er the knowe;
And or I wad anither jad,
    I’ll wallop in a tow.

        The weary pund, the weary pund,
            The weary pund o’ tow!
        I think my wife will end her life
            Before she spin her tow.


Note:
“This song,” says Sir Harris Nicolas, “is in the Musical Museum; but it is not attributed to Burns. Mr. Allan Cunningham does not state upon what authority he has assigned it to Burns.” The critical knight might have, if he had pleased, stated similar objections to many songs which he took without scruple from my edition, where they were claimed for Burns, for the first time, and on good authority. I, however, as it happens, did not claim the song wholly for the poet: I said “the idea of the song is old, and perhaps some of the words.” It was sent by Burns to the Museum, and in his own handwriting.

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