Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang,
Cock ye baith your lugs to your auld Grannie's sang:
— Gin ye gang as far ye will think the road lang,
— Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang.

Creep awa', my bairnie, ye're ower young to learn
To tot up and down yet, my bonnie wee bairn;
— Better creepin' cannie, than fa'in' wi' a bang,
— Duntin' a' your wee brow, — creep afore ye gang.

Ye'll creep, an' ye'll hotch, an' ye'll nod to your mither,
Watchin' ilka step o' your wee dousy brither;
— Rest ye on the floor till your wee limbs grow strang,
— An' ye'll be a braw chiel yet, — creep afore ye gang.

The wee birdie fa's when it tries ower soon to flee,
Folks are sure to tumble, when they climb ower hie;
— They wha canna walk right are sure to come to wrang,
— Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang.