MY Peggy is a young thing, Just enter'd in her teens Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay; My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wawking of the fauld. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair of a' that's rare; My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld, But she gars a' my spirits glow At wawking of the fauld. My Peggy smiles sae kindly Whene'er I whisper love, That I look down on a' the town, That I look down upon a crown; My Peggy smiles sae kindly, It makes me blyth and bauld, And naething gi'es me sic delight As wawking of the fauld. My Peggy sings sae saftly When on my pipe I play, By a' the rest it is confest, By a' the rest, that she sings best; My Peggy sings sae saftly, And in her sangs are tauld With innocence the wale of sense, At wawking of the fauld. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE DUTCH GARDEN by HARRIET WHITNEY DURBIN THE OLD SHIPS by JAMES ELROY FLECKER THE BURNING OF THE TEMPLE by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION by WALT WHITMAN AN EPISTLE TO CURIO by MARK AKENSIDE THE LADY UNKNOWN by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK |