Whistle O’er The Lave O’t by Robert Burns

First when Maggie was my care,
Heav’n, I thought, was in her air,
Now we’re married–speir nae mair,
But 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 beguil’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 maggot’s meat,
Dish’d up in her winding-sheet,
I could write–but Meg maun see’t–
Whistle o’er the lave o’t!

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