5
Do they never carelessly stray,
While happily she lies asleep?
Tweed’s murmurs should lull her to rest ;
Kind nature indulging my bliss—
To ease the soft pains of my breast,
I'd steal an embrosial kiss.
'Tis she does the virgins excel,
No beauty with her may compare;
Love’s graces around her do dwell;
She’s the fairest where thousands are fair.
Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray?
Oh! tell me at noon where they feed?
Shall I seek them on sweet-winding Tay,
Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed?
Although my Meg's gie'n me the bag.
Although my Meg's gien me the bag
The fling, or what d'ye ca' that,
An' squares wi' Jock, the Lunnon buck,
I'm no to greet for a' that;
For a' that, an' a' that,
An' twice as muckle's a' that,
Though she be sweet, for kissing meet.
An' muckle mair than a' that.
