TOM Bolin was a Scotchman born His shoes worn out, his stockings were tora, His jacket was short, his shirt it was thin, This is my summer dress says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin had no stockings to wear, He got his mother to foot him a pair; The calf of his leg grew down to his chin, I'm a delicate fellow, says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin had no breeches to wear, He bought a sheepskin to make him a pair; The flesh side out, and the wool side in, They are charming and cool, says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin had no boots to wear, He bought him a calf-skin to make him a pair; The hare side out, and the flesh side in, Look at my new boots, says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin bought him an old grey mare, Her baek hump'd up, her bones were bare; Her legs they were long, her belly was thin, She's a villainsome jade, says Tom Bolin.

His saddle was made of an ox's tripe, His bridle was made of a bull's wind-pipe, His cap it was made of a wood-chuck's skin, I'm a terrible fellow, says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin mounted his old mare to ride, With his sword and buckler by his side; Away he rode through thick and thin, I'm going a courting, says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin came to a Dutchman's hall, And in he went among them all; You impudent fellow, how dare you come in; I'm come here a courting, says Tom Bolin.

Sit down, sit down, you're a welcome guest, Which of my daughters do you like best? One for beauty, the other for kin, I'll marry them both says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin and wife, and his wife's mother, All went over to the priest's together; The door it was shut, and the string pull'd in, The de'il of no priest said Tom Bolin.

The priest then looked out at the door, He saw three people, but saw no more; Good morning, fair people, won't you come in! I'm come to be marry'd, says Tom Bolin.

After wedding they must needs have a dinner, (Tho' nothing provided that's fit for a sinner) Neither fish, flesh, nor no such thing, But be of good cheer, says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin and wife, and his wife's mother, All went over the bridge together; The bridge it broke, and they all fell in, The devil go with you, says Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin's wife being a thick squat, Out of the water soon she got; Away she rode through thick and thin, Enquiring for delicate Tom Bolin.

Tom Bolin crept into an old hollow tree, And very contented he seem'd for to be; The wind it did blow, the rain it beat in, The de'il of no house, says Tom Bolin.