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 His dimpled chin and rosy cheeks,
 * And face sae fair and ruddy, O;

And then a day's his grey breeks
 * Were neither torn nor duddy, O.

But now they're thread bare worn,
 * They're wider than they're wont to be;

They're tash'd like an' sair torn,
 * And clouted upon ilka knee.

But gin I had a simmer's day,
 * As I ha'e had right mony, O,

I'd make a web of new grey,
 * To be breeks to my Johnny, O.

For he's weel worthy o' them,
 * And better than I had to gie;

And I'd take pains upon them,
 * Frae faults I'll strive to keep them free.

To clad him weel shall be my care,
 * To please him a' my study, O;

But he maun wear the auld pair,
 * A wee, tho' they be duddy, O.

For when the lad was in his prime,
 * Like him there wasna mony, O;

He ca'd me aye his bonny thing,
 * Sae wha wadna loe Johnny, O.

So I loe Johnny's grey breeks,
 * For a' the care they've gi'en me yet,

And gin we live anither year,
 * We'll mak' them hale atween us yet.