Noo I've aft times heard it said by my mother and my father,

                                        That tae gang tae a waddin' is the makins o' anither,

                                        If this be true, then I'll gang wi'oot a biddin',

                                        O kind Providence won't you send me tae a waddin'.

 

                                        Chorus :

                                        For it's Oh, dear me ! whit will I dae,

                                        If I dae an auld maid in a garret.

 

                                        Noo there's ma sister, Jean, she's no handsome or good-lookin'

                                        Scarcely sixteen an' a fellow she was coortin'

                                        Noo she's twenty-four wi' a son an' a dochter

                                        An' I'm forty-twa an' I've never had an offer.

 

                                        I can cook an' I can sew, I can keep the hoose right tidy

                                        Rise up in the morning and get the breakfast ready

                                        But there's naething in this wide world would mak' me half sae cheery

                                        As a wee fat man that would ca' me his ain dearie.

 

                                        Oh, come tinker, come tailor, come soldier or come sailor,

                                        Come ony man at a' that would tak me fae my faither,

                                        Come rich man, come poor man, come wise man or come witty

                                        Come ony man at a' that would mairry me for pity.

 

                                        Oh, I'll awa hame fur there's naebody heedin'

                                        Naebody heedin' tae puir Annie's pleadin'

                                        I'll awa hame tae my ain wee bit garret -

                                        If I canna get a man than I'll shairly get a parrot.

 

 

Footnote : This popular Scottish song goes back to a seventeenth century English broadsheet ballad called ' The Wooing Maid ' by Martin Parker of London. His chorus was :

 

                                        Come gentle, come simple, come foolish, come witty,

                                        Oh if ye lack a maid, take me for pity.

 

The song also crossed the Atlantic and survives in an American version proving the strength of oral transmission.