There liv'd ance a carle in Kellyburn-braes,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,
And he had a wife was the plague of his days,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

Ae day as the carle gaed up the lang glen,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,
He met wi' the deil, wha said, how do ye fen?
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

"I've got a bad wife, Sir, that's a' my complaint,
"Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
"For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint!
"And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."

'Its neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave,
'Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
'But gi'e me your wife, man, for her I must have,
'And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.'

"O welcome most kindly, the blythe carle said,
"Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
"But if ye can match her ye're waur  than ye're ca'd,
"And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime."

So Nickie then got the auld wife on his back,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
And like a poor pedlar he trudg'd wi' his pack,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

Now he's ta'en her hame to his ain reeky den,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,
To its blackest nook he has carried her ben,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,
Turn out on her guard in the clap of a hand,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

The carlin gaed thro' them like ony mad bear,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
Whae'er she gat hands on, cam' near her nae mair,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

A reekit wee devil looks ower the wa',
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
O help, master, help, or she'll ruin us a',
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

Auld Sootie then swore by the edge of his knife,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
He pitied the man that was ty'd to a wife,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

I hae been a de'il now the feck o' my life,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
But ne'er was in h-ll till I met wi' a wife,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

So Clootie was glad to return wi' his pack,
Hey and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;
And to her ain henpeck e'en carried her back,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.