Are ye no gaun to wauken th' day, ye rogue?
Your parritch is ready and cool in the cog,
Auld baudrons sae gaucy, and Tam o' that ilk
Would fain ha'e a drap o' my wee laddie's milk.

There's a wee birdie singing, get up, get up!
And listen, it says "tak' a whup, tak a whup ;"
But I'll kittle his bosie- a far better plan-
Or pouther his pow wi' a watering can.

There's claes to wash, and the house to redd,
And I canna begin till I mak' the bed;
For I count it nae brag to be clever as some,
Wha while thrang at a' bakin', can soop the lum.

It's far i' the day now, and brawly ye ken,
Your faither has scarcely a minute to spen';
But ae blink o' his wife wi' the bairn on her knee,
He says lightens his toil, tho' sair it may be.

So up to your parritch, and on wi' your claes;
There's a fire that might warm the cauld Norlan braes;
For a coggie weel fill'd and a clean fire-en'
Should mak' ye jump up, and gae skelping ben.