Ye're sair stressed wi stringin the milsey.
Ye're seek, but no sair handled.
Ye're seekin the thing that's no tint.
Ye're the wecht o Jock's cog, brose an aa.
Ye're there yet, an yer belt hale.
Ye're thrifty an throu thrivin, when yer heid gangs doun yer bottom's risin.
Ye're unco guid, an ye'll growe fair.
Ye're up in the buckle, like John Barr's cat.
Ye're of sae mony minds ye'll never be married.
Ye're oot an in, like a dug at a fair.
Ye're ower auld farrant tae be fleyed wi bogies.
Ye're ower het an ower fou, sib tae some o the laird's tenants.
Ye're queer fowk no tae be Falkland fowk.
Ye're sae keen o clockin, ye'll dee on the eggs.
Ye're sair fashed haudin naething thegither.
Ye're mistaen o the stuff; it's hauf silk.
Ye're nae chicken for a' your cheeping.
Ye're never pleas'd fu' nor fasting.
Ye're never pleased, fou nor fastin.
Ye're new come ower-yer hert's nippin.
Ye're no fed on deaf nuts.
Ye're no licht whaur ye lean aa.
Ye're no light where lean a'.
Ye're no worth ca'in oot o a kail-yaird.
Ye're like the swine's balms-the aulder ye growe ye're aye the thiefer like.