Peggy

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.