Whistle o'er 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 o'er the lave o't.

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,

Sweet and harmless as a child;

Wiser men than me's beguile'd,

Whistle 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 see,

Whistle o'er the lave o't.

Wha I wish were maggots' meat,

Dish'd up in her winding-sheet;

I could write, -- but Meg maun see't,

Whistle o'er the lave o't.