Nae Hair On't
The Merry Muses of Caledonia
Yestreen I wed a lady fair,An ye wad believe me,On her c—t there grows nae hair,That's the thing that grieves me.
It vex'd me sair, it plagu'd me sair.It put me in a passion,To think that I had wed a wife,Whose c—t was out o' fashion.