A dinna like the pleatit beds at modren fowk lie on
Wi all at weirs at leave yer back juist like a brandered scone
None o at streamlined beds for me! The kind o rest A like
Is wi ma haunch-bone buiried in the auld caff-seck!
A like a bed at maks a muive til welcome achin backs,
No like this new contraptions at defy ye til relax
Yer torturt body wallops til yer bones are like til brek;
Gie me the yieldin welcome wi the auld caff-seck.
Ye clim abuird at bedtime, ye snuggle warm and deep,
It hauds ye in its soft embrace and lulls ye off til sleep;
It gaithers roond ye like a spell and gairds ye safe and soond
And like a bairn ye slumber til anither day comes roond.
Mebbe whan simmer's at its hicht it's apt til brak the sweit,
But on a bitin winter's nicht its comfort's haurd til beat.
Whan nothin seems til warm yer bones awa til bed ye traik
And thaw yer shiverin carcass on the auld caff-seck.
Whan this new-fangeled mattresses are gettin kin o ripe
Thay ask a lock o siller til pit thaim back in shape
But whan the caff-seck's haed its day leuk at the cash ye hain!
Juist empty hit ahint the dyke and fill it up again!
No wonder at fowk nouadays complain o sleeplessness
On at glorified weir-nettin thay call a spring mattress.
Let ithers in thair ignorance uise at things if thay like,
A'll snore ma wey til glory on ma auld ...