Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

276 . Song—Whistle o’er the lave o’t

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!