Willie Winkie, with the Scotticisms Changed

Wee Willie Winkie

Runs through the town,

Up stairs and down stairs

In his night gown,

Tapping at the window,

Crying at the lock,

"Are the weans in their bed,

For it's now ten o'clock?"

"Hey! Willie Winkie,

Are you coming then?

The cat's singing Purrie

To the sleeping hen,

The dog is lying on the floor,

And does not even peep;

But here's a wakeful laddie

That will not fall asleep."

Anything but sleep, you rogue!

Glowring like the moon!

Rattling in an iron jug

With an iron spoon,

Rumbling, tumbling all about,

Crowing like a cock,

Screaming like I don't know what,

Waking sleeping folk.

"Hey! Willie Winkie,

Can't you keep him still?

Wriggling off a body's knee

Like a very eel,

Pulling at the cat's ear,

As she drowsy hums,—

Heigh, Willie Winkie,

See! There he comes!"

Wearied is the mother

That has a restless wean,

A wee, stumpy bairnie

Heard whene'er he's seen—

That has a battle aye with sleep

Before he'll close an e'e;

But a kiss from off his rosy lips

Gives strength anew to me.