I’LL tell you a tale of a Wife,
And she was a Whig and a Saunt;
She liv’d a most santify’d life,
But whyles she was fash’d wi’ her cunt.------
Fall al &c.

Poor woman! she gaed to the Priest,
And till him she made her complaint;
“There ‘s naething that troubles my breast
Sae sair as the sins o’ my cunt.--------

Sin that I was herdin at hame,
Till now I’m three score and ayont,
I own it wi’ sin and wi’ shame
I ‘ve led a sad life wi my cunt.--------

He bade her to clear up her brow,
And no be discourag’d upon ‘t;
For holy gude women enow
Were mony times waur’t wi’ their cunt.--------

It ‘s naught but Beelzebubs’s art,
But that ‘s mair than the sign of a saunt,
He kens that ye ‘re pure at your heart,
Sae levels his darts at your cunt.------

What signifies Morals and Works,
Our works are no worthy a runt!
It ‘s Fair that is sound, orthodox,
That covers the fauts o’ your cunt.----

Were ye o’ the Reprobate race
Created to sin and be brunt,
O then it would alter the case
If ye should gae wrang wi’ your cunt.----------

But you that is Called and Free
Elekit and chosen a saunt,
Will ‘t break the Eternal Decree
Whatever ye do wi’ your cunt?------

And now with a santify’d kiss
Let ‘s kneel and renew convenant:
It ‘s this--------and it ‘s this------and it ‘s this----
That settles the pride o’ your cunt.------

Devotion blew up to a flame;
No words can do justice upon ‘t;
The honest auld women gaed hame
Rejoicing and clawin her cunt.--------

The high to her memory charge;
And may he who takes it affront,
Still ride in Love’s channel at large,
And never make port in a cunt!!!