Tune, — The mucking o' Geordie's byre .

In my teens I was a great tramper,
For love pat my head in a creel ,
Frae city to town I did scamper,
O'er muir, hill, high mountain, an' dale.
For I gade straight to the mishanter,
(When prest frae the arms o' sweet Bell ,)
Till fate tald me ane wad supplant her,
The lass wi' the twa handed wheel .

Leander in love ne'er was blinder,
(Like him I ran right to extremes
I, search'd ilke place for to find her,
Frae Forth, to the bonny sweet Thames;
Oh! then to the sea helter skelter,
Resolv'd for the banks o' the Nile,
And sought through renown'd Gibralter,
For her wi' the twa handed wheel .

I gaed to the braw town o' Cadiz,
To see if solace I could find,
But nane o' the sweet Spanish ladies,
Caught my eyes, or my wandering mind;
Spain and Portugal I did abandon,
Then seas mountains high I did spell,
Next I rang'd through England to London,
For her an' the twa handed wheel .

Yet grandeur here it ay grows tasteless,
For luxury soon turns stale;
And Cupid still renderd me restless
Till I saw the land o' ait meal :
There I met the pride o' Dunottar ,
(Wha gar'd me sae lang stand the dreel,
For in blyth auld Reikie I met her,
My love wi' the twa handed wheel .

Let coxcombs gae hunt after riches,
Which hides aft a poor thriftless drab,
But my thrifty lass dings a Duchess,
Wha spins me ay yearly a web.
For virtue, an' thrift is her portion,
Wha brings me a lass or a chiel.
So I'll ne'er repent my excursion,
For my dear wi' the twa handed wheel .