Poem of the day

Peggy
by Allan Ramsay (1686-1758)

   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,
      When’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 my blythe and bauld,
And naithing 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 songs are tald,
With innocence the wale of Sense,
      At Wawking of the Fauld.

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