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.
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