Classic Poem

First when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married—spier nae mair—
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 carena by how few may see,
Whistle o'er the lave o't.—

Wha I wish were maggots' meat,
Dish'd up in her winding-sheet;
I could write—but Meg maun see 't—
Whistle o'er the lave o't.—