Poetry Archives

Ae blink o’ the bonnie new mune,
  Ay tinted as sune as she’s seen,
Wad licht me to Meg frae the toun,
  Tho’ mony the brae-side between:
Ae fuff o’ the saftest o’ win’s,
  As wilyart it kisses the thorn,
Wad blaw me o’er knaggies an’ linns—
  To Meg by the side o’ the burn!

My daddie’s a laird wi’ a ha’;
  My mither had kin at the court;
I maunna gang wooin’ ava’—
  Or any sic frolicsome sport.
Gin I’d wed—there’s a winnock kept bye;
  Wi’ bodies an’ gear i’ her loof—
Gin ony tak her an’ her kye,
  Hell glunsh at himsel’ for a coof!

My daddie’s na doylt, tho’ he’s auld,
  The winnock is pawkie an’ gleg;
When the lammies are pit i’ the fauld,
  They’re fear’d that I’m aff to my Meg.
My mither sits spinnin’—ae blink
  O’ a smile in her kind, bonnie ‘ee;
She’s minded o’ mony a link
  She, stowlins, took o’er the lea

To meet wi’ my daddie himsel’
  Tentie jinkin’ by lea an’ by shaw;
She fu’s up his pipe then hersel’,
  So I may steal cannie awa’.
O leeze me o’ gowany swaird,
  An’ the blink o’ the bonnie new mune!
An’ the cowt stown out o’ the yaird
  That trots like a burnie in June!

My Meg she is waitin’ abeigh—
 Ilk spunkie that flits through the fen
Wad jealously lead me astray
 Frae my ain bonnie lass o’ the glen!
My forbears may groan i’ the mools,
 My daddie look dour an’ din;
Wee Love is the callant wha rules,
 An’ my Meg is the wifie I’ll win!