Peggy
by Allan Ramsay (1686-1758)

      My Peggy is a young thing,
            Just enter’d in her teens
Fair as the day, and sweet as May,
Fair as the day, and always gay;
      My Peggy is a young thing,
            And I’m not very auld,
      Yet well I like to meet her at
            The wawking of the fauld.

      My Peggy speaks sae sweetly
            Whene’er we meet alane,
I wish nae mair to lay my care,
I wish nae mair of a’ that’s rare;
      My Peggy speaks sae sweetly,
            To a’ the lave I’m cauld,
      But she gars a’ my spirits glow
            At wawking of the fauld.

      My Peggy smiles sae kindly
            Whene’er I whisper love,
That I look down on a’ the town,
That I look down upon a crown;
      My Peggy smiles sae kindly,
            It makes me blyth and bauld,
      And naething gi’es me sic delight
            As wawking of the fauld.

      My Peggy sings sae saftly
            When on my pipe I play,
By a’ the rest it is confest,
By a’ the rest, that she sings best;
      My Peggy sings sae saftly,
            And in her sangs are tauld
      With innocence the wale of sense,
            At wawking of the fauld.

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