This page has been validated.
5
Mirk an' rainy is the night,
No a starn in a' the carry,
Lightnings gleam athwart the lift,
And winds drive wi' winter's fury.
O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.
No a starn in a' the carry,
Lightnings gleam athwart the lift,
And winds drive wi' winter's fury.
O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.
Fearfu' soughs the bour-tree bank,
The rifted wood roars wild and dreary,
Loud the iron yate does clank,
And cry o' howlets mak's me eerie,
O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.
The rifted wood roars wild and dreary,
Loud the iron yate does clank,
And cry o' howlets mak's me eerie,
O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.
Aboon my breath I darena speak,
For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie,
Cauld's the blast upon my cheek.
O rise, rise, my bonny lady!
O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.
For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie,
Cauld's the blast upon my cheek.
O rise, rise, my bonny lady!
O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.
She op'd the door, she let me in,
He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie—
"Blaw your warst, ye rain and win',
"Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye."
Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,
Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,
What care I for howlet's cry,
For bour-tree bank, or warlock craigie?
He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie—
"Blaw your warst, ye rain and win',
"Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye."
Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,
Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,
What care I for howlet's cry,
For bour-tree bank, or warlock craigie?
