Skip to main content

‹‹‹ prev (165) Page 76Page 76

(167) next ››› Page 77Page 77

(166) Page 77 - Whistle o'er the lave o't (words)
WHISTLE O’ER THE LAVE O'T
tirst when Maggy was my care.
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now were married fpier nae mair.
But whiflle o’er the lave o’t;
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild.
Sweet and harmlefs as a child;
Wifer men than me’s beguil’d.
So whiftle o’er the lave o’t.
How we live, my Meg and me.
How we love, and how we gree;
I care na by how few may fee—
Whiftle o’er the lave o’t;
Wha I wifti were maggots’ meat,
Difh’d up in her winding-lheet,
I cou’d write, but Meg maun fee’t,
Whiftle o’er the lave o’t.

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence