The whigmaleerie's coorse an slee
Wi een like bleezin peat
He weirs a thorn buss fur hair
A bawd's hin-legs fur feet

His lugs are wirmy puddock-steels
His neb's a grumphy's snoot
His belly is a fryin pan
His aims are lang an stoot

His cleuks are jobby as a craws
A besom is his tail
An fin he blaws his tooteroo
He fussles up a gale.

The whigmaleerie wauks the nicht
Wi warlocks, ghaists an ghouls
Plays ring-a-rosies roon the meen
Syne bedds doon in the mools