While anchored in the Port o' Leith
A ****** by the name o' Keith
Went out on the town
With sailors sorrows for to drown.
A woman in every port
Or so he'd thought
Until he caught a funny rash
Which cost him nearly half his cash.
Through the bottom o' a whisky glass
And no' in the arms o' a Scottish lass
He found his blurry dream
Yo ** ** and a jar of cream.
— The End —