This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
There's news, lasses, news,
Gude news I've to tell,
There's a boat fu' o' lads
Come to our town to sell.
The wean wants a cradle,
An' the cradle wants a cod,
An' I'll no gang to my bed
Until I get a nod.
Father, quo' she, Mither, quo' she,
Do what ye can,
I'll no gang to my bed
Till I get a man.
The wean, &c.
I hae as gude a craft rig
As made o' yird and stane;
And waly fu' the ley-crap
For I maun till'd again.
The wean, &c.