Ye'll hang a' but the heid yet.
Ye'll dee like a trooper's horse-wi yer shuin on.
Ye'll hang aa but the heid yet.
Ye'll drink before me.
Ye'll let naething tine for want o seekin.
Ye'll find him where you left him.
Ye'll mend when ye grow better.
Ye'll follow him lang or he'll let five shillins faa.
Ye'll naither dance nor haud the candle.
Ye'll gang a grey gate yet.
Ye'll naither dee for yer wit nor be drooned for a warlock.
Ye'll gar him claw a sair haffit.
Ye'll gar me seek the needle whaur I didna stick it.
Ye'll get as muckle for ae wish this year as for twa fernyear.
Ye'll get nae mair o the cat but the skin.
Ye wad mak a guid wife, ye haud the grip ye get.
Ye'll be hang'd and I'll be harried.
Ye wad mak muckle o me if I wis yours.
Ye'll be hanged an I'll be harried.
Ye wad marry a midden for the muck.
Ye'll beguile nane but them that lippen tae ye.
Ye wad steal the pocks frae a auld wife, an syne spier whaur she got them.
Ye watna what wife's ladle mey cog yer kail.
Ye soon weary of well doing.
Ye watna what's ahint yer hand.