Ye'll tak mair in yer mou than yer cheeks will haud.
Ye'll never craw in my cavie.
Ye'll worry in the band like Mcewen's calf.
Ye'll never growe howbackit bearin yer freends.
Yellow's forsaken, an green's forsworn, but blue an reid ocht tae be worn.
Ye'll never harry yersel wi yer ain hands.
Yelpin curs will raise mastiffs.
Ye'll never mak a mark in yer testament bi that bargain.
Ye'll never rowte in my tether.
Ye'll no dee as lang as he's yer deemster.
Ye'll no herry yoursel with your ain hands.
Ye'll no let it be for want o cravin.
Ye'll no mend a broken nest bi dabbin at it.
Ye'll no sell your hen in a rainy day.
Ye'll gar him claw a sair haffit.
Ye'll naither dee for yer wit nor be drooned for a warlock.
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'll get the cat wi' the twa tails.
Ye'll get waur bodes or Beltane.
Ye'll get yer gear again, an they'll get the weedae that stole't.
Ye'll brek yer neck as suin as yer fast in this hoose.
Ye'll get yer heid in yer hands an yer lugs tae play wi.
Ye'll cool an come tae yersel, like Macgibbon's crowdy when he set it oot at the windae-bole.