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How lo'e ye your Maggy,
How lo'e ye your Maggy,
How lo'e ye your Maggy,
And lo'e nane but she?
Heavenly joys before me,
Rapture trembling o'er me,
Maggy, I adore thee,
On my bended knee.
THEY TOOK ME TO THE HOLY BAND.
Tune—"Clout the Cauldron."
An old fragment.
They took me to the Holy Band,
For playing wi' my wife, sir,
And lang and sair they lectured me,
For leading sic a life, sir.
I answered in not many words,
"What deil needs a' this clatter?
As long as she could keep the grig,
I aye was f——g at her."
