I am a Dundee weaver, I come frae bonny Dundee.
I met a lad frae Glasgow, an' he cam' courtin' me.
He took me oot a-walkin' doon by the Kelvin Haugh (ha'?)
And there the dirty wee snotter stole my thingamajig awa'.

He took me oot a-walkin' doon by the Rookin'(?) Glen.
He showed tae me the bonny wee birds an' he showed me the bonny wee hen.
He showed tae me the bonny wee birds, frae a linnet tae a craw.
He showed tae me the bird that stole my thingamajig awa'.

Sae I'll gae back tae Dundee, looking bonny, young and fair.
I'll pit on my bucklin' shoon, an' I'll tie up my bonny broon hair.
I'll pit on my corsets tight, tae mak' my body look sma',
And wha will ken by my rosy cheeks my thingamajig's awa'?

Sae a' ye Dundee weavers, tak' this advice frae me:
Never let a fellae an inch aboon yer knee.
And never stan' at the back o' yer close, or up against the wa',
For, if you dae, ye can safely say, yer thingamagig's awa'.

That's how I learned it from Robin Hall in London, 1958.

Sandy