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We're a' gaun southie, O

Callum cam to Campbell's court, An' saw ye e'er the make o't; Pay'd twenty shillings for a thing, An' never got a straik o't. We're a' gaun southie, O. We're a' gaun there; An' we're a' gaun to Mauchlin fair, To sell our pickle hair. Pay'd twenty shillings for a quine, Her name was Kirsty Lauchlan; But Callum took her by the cunt, Before the laird o' Mauchline. Callum cam to Kirsty's door, Says, Kirsty are ye sleepin'? No sae soun as ye wad trow, Ye'se get the thing ye're seekin'. Callum had a peck o' meal, Says, Kirsty, will ye draik it? She whippet off her wee white-coat, An' birket at it nakit. Bonie lassie, braw lassie, Will ye hae a soger? Then she took up her duddie sark, An' he shot in his Roger. Kind kimmer Kirsty, I loe wi' a' my heart, O, An' when there'se ony penis gaun, She'll ay get a part, O.


Douglas Henshall

About this work

This is a poem by Robert Burns. It is read here by Douglas Henshall.

Themes for this poem

sex bawdry woman

Locations for this poem


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