He made the pottage wanting ſa’t,
the kail ſing’d in the pot;
The cutties lay under his feet,
and cogs they ſeem’d to rot.
The ben and birds went to the fields,
the glede ſhe whipt up twa:
The cow, wanting her chaff and ſtraw,
ſtood routing thro’ the wa’.
The bairns fought upon the floor,
and on the fire did fa’:
Which vex’d the heart of honeſt John,
when Maggy was awa’.
With bitten fingers and cutted thumbs,
and ſereichs which pierc’d the ſkies,
Which drove his patienee to an end,
wiſh’d death to cloſe their eyes.
Then went to pleaſe them with a ſcone,
but on! he burnt it black!
Ran to the well with twa new canns,
but none of them came back.
The hens went to their neighbour’s houſe,
and there they laid their eggs.
When ſimple John reprov’d them for’t,
he broke poor chuckies legs.
