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Poem by Robert Burns


Whistle Owre the Lave Ot


FIRST when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now were married-spier nae mair-
  Whistle owre the lave ot.

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonnie Meg was natures child-
Wiser men than mes beguild;
  Whistle owre the lays ot.

How we live, my Meg and me,
How we love and how we gree,
I care na by how few may see-
  Whistle owre the lave ot.

Wha I wish were maggots meat,
Dishd up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg may seet;
  Whistle owre the lave ot.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Theres News, Lasses
  2. Scroggam
  3. The Toast
  4. Where are the Joys
  5. My Wifes a Winsome Wee Thing


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