The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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PEGGY. |
 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
190
PEGGY.
When first I foregathered wi' Peggy,
My Peggy and I were young;
Sae blythe at the bught i' the gloamin'
My Peggy and I ha'e sung.
My Peggy and I ha'e sung,
Till the stars did blink sae hie;
Come weel or come woe to the beggin',
My Peggy was dear to me.
My Peggy and I were young;
Sae blythe at the bught i' the gloamin'
My Peggy and I ha'e sung.
My Peggy and I ha'e sung,
Till the stars did blink sae hie;
Come weel or come woe to the beggin',
My Peggy was dear to me.
The stately aik stood on the mountain,
And towered o'er the green birken shaw;
Ilk glentin' wee flower on the meadow,
Seemed proud o' bein' buskit sae braw.
Seemed proud o' bein' buskit sae braw
When they saw their ain shape i' the Dee;
'Twas there that I courted my Peggy,
Till the kirk it fell foul o' me.
And towered o'er the green birken shaw;
Ilk glentin' wee flower on the meadow,
Seemed proud o' bein' buskit sae braw.
Seemed proud o' bein' buskit sae braw
When they saw their ain shape i' the Dee;
'Twas there that I courted my Peggy,
Till the kirk it fell foul o' me.
Though love it has little to look for
Frae the heart that is wedded to gear;
A wife without house or a hadden
Gars ane look right blate like and queer.
Gars ane baith look blate like and queer,
But queerer when twa turns to three;
Our friens they ha'e foughten and flyten,
But Peggy's aye dear to me.
Frae the heart that is wedded to gear;
A wife without house or a hadden
Gars ane look right blate like and queer.
Gars ane baith look blate like and queer,
But queerer when twa turns to three;
Our friens they ha'e foughten and flyten,
But Peggy's aye dear to me.
191
It vexed me her sighin' and sabbin',
Now nought aniest marriage would do;
And though that our prospects were dreary,
What could I but e'en buckle to?
What could I but e'en buckle to,
And dight the saut tear frae her e'e?
The warl's a wearifu' wister;
But Peggy's aye dear to me.
Now nought aniest marriage would do;
And though that our prospects were dreary,
What could I but e'en buckle to?
What could I but e'en buckle to,
And dight the saut tear frae her e'e?
The warl's a wearifu' wister;
But Peggy's aye dear to me.
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |