O Mally’s meek.
[This was an almost extemporaneous effusion of Burns, on seeing a fair country girl walk along the High Street of Dumfries, with her shoes and stockings, more Scotico, in her hand, instead of on her feet. He sent it to Johnson's Museum, accompanied with an air resembling much the old tune of "Andro and his Cutty Gun." It was his last contribution to that publication!]
As I was walking up the street,
A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet;
But O the road was very hard
For that fair maiden's tender feet.
O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet,
Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
Mally's every way complete.
It were mair meet, that those fine feet
Were weel lac'd up in silken shoon,
And 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon.
O Mally's meek, &c.
Her yellow hair, beyond compare,
Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck;
And her two eyes, like stars in skies,
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.
O Mally's meek, &c.