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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!