Wee Willie Winkie

Wee Willie Winkie rins thro' the toon
Upstairs and doonstairs in his nicht goon.
Tirlin' at the window, cryin at the lock,
"Are aa the bairnies in their beds? It's past eight o'clock."

Hey Willie Winkie, are ye comin' ben?
The cat's singin' grey thrums to the sleepin' hen,
The dug's speldert on the flair and disnae gie a cheep,
But here's a waukrife laddie that winna fa' asleep.

Onything but sleep, you rogue,
glow'ring like the moon,
Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon,
Rumblin', tumblin' roon about,
crawin' like a cock,
Skirlin' like I kenna what, waukerin' sleepin' folk.

Hey Willie Winkie, the wean's in a creel,
Wamblin, aff a bodie's knee like a verra eel,
Ruggin' at the cat's lug and ravenin' a' her thrums -
"Hey Willie Winkie! See, here he comes!"