Poem by Robert Burns

Whistle Owre the Lave O’t

FIRST when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we’re married-spier nae mair-
  Whistle owre the lave o’t.

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonnie Meg was nature’s child-
Wiser men than me’s beguil’d;
  Whistle owre the lays o’t.

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 o’t.

Wha I wish were maggots’ meat,
Dish’d up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg may see’t;
  Whistle owre the lave o’t.

1. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
2. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
3. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
4. The Bonnie Wee Thing
5. Castle Gordon

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