Merry may the maid be

O merry may the maid be

That marries the miller,

For foul day and fair day

He's ay bringing till her;

He's ay a penny in his purse

For dinner and for supper;

And, gin she please, a good fat cheese,

And lumps o' yellow butter.

When Jamie first did woo me,

I spier'd what was his calling?

"Fair maid," says he, "O come and see,

"Ye're welcome to my dwelling:"

Tho' I was shy, yet I could spy

The truth of what he told me,

And that his house was warm and couth,

And room in it to hold me.

In winter, when the wind and rain,

Blaws o'er the house and byre,

He sits beside a clean hearth-stane,

Before a rousing fire;

With nut-brown ale he tells his tale,

Which rows him o'er fu' happy,

Who'd be a king, -- a petty thing,

When a miller lives so happy!