Wee wullie waggletail, what is a’ your stishie?
Tak a sowp o’ water and coorie on a stane:
Ilka tree stands dozent, and the wind without a hishie
Fitters in atween the fleurs and shogs them, ane be ane.
What whigmaleerie gars ye jowp and jink amang the duckies,
Wi’ a rowsan simmer sün beekin on your croun:
Wheeple, wheeple, wheeplin like a wee burn owre the chuckies,
And wagglin here, and wagglin there, and wagglin up and doun.