whistle o'er the lave o't
    first when maggie was my care,
    heav'n, i thought, was in her air,
    now we're married—speir nae mair,
    but whistle o'er the lave o't!
    meg was meek, and meg was mild,
    sweet and harmless as a child—
    wiser men than me's beguil'd;
    whistle o'er the lave o't!
    how we live, my meg and me,
    how we love, and how we gree,
    i care na by how few may see—
    whistle o'er the lave o't!
    wha i wish were maggot's meat,
    dish'd up in her winding-sheet,
    i could write—but meg maun see't—
    whistle o'er the lave o't!