And that his houſe was warm and couth,
and room in it to hold me.
Behind the door a bag of meal,
and in the kiſt was plenty
Of good hard cakes, his mither bakes,
and bannocks were na' ſcanty;
A good fat ſow, a ſleeky cow
were ſtanding in the byre;
Whilſt lazy puſs, with mealy mouſe,
were playing at the fire.
Good ſigns are theſe, my mither ſays,
and bids me tak the miller;
For foul day and fair day,
he's ay bringing till her:
For meal and ma't ſhe diſna want,
nor ony thing that's dainty,
And now an then a keckling hen,
to lay her eggs in plenty.
In winter when the wind and rain
blaws o'er the barn and byre;
The miller by a clean hearth-ſtane,
beſide a ranting fire,
He ſits and cracks, and tells his tale,
o'er ale that is right nappy;
Who'd be a Queen that gaudy thing,
when a miller's wife's ſae happy.
Glaſgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertſon,
Saltmarket, 1799.
