Dinna scaud your mouth wi' other folk's kail.

O thou! whatever title suit thee, Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, Closed under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie, To scaud poor wretches.

O thou! whatever title suit thee, Auld Hornie, Satan, Kick, or Clootie, Wha in yon cavern grim an’ sootie, Closed under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie, To scaud poor wretches!

O up then started our gudeman,   An angry man was he; "Will ye kiss my wife before my een,   And scaud me wi' pudding bree?"

An' here I am, her ane half brither, wi' naething i' my pooer but to scaud the hert o' her, or else lee!