Maggy Lauther (1824, Edinburgh)/The Miller

For other versions of this work, see [[]].
​

The Miller.

O merry may the maid be,That marries the Miller,For foul day and fair dayHe's ay bringing till her. ​He's ay a penny in his purse,For dinner or for supper,And gin she please a gude fat cheese,And lumps o' yellow butter.
When Jamie first did woo me,I spier'd what was his calling;Fair maid, says he O come and see,Ye're welcome to my dwalling;Tho' I was shy yet I cou'd spyThe truth o' what he told me,And that his house was warm and couth,And room enough to hold me.
Behint the door a bag o' meal,And in the kist was plenty,Of good hard cakes his mither bakes,And bannocks were na scanty;A good fat sow, a sleeky cow,Was standing in the byre;While lazy puss with meally mouse,Was playing at the fire.
Good signs are these my mither says,And bids me tak the miller;For foul day and fair dayHe's ay bringing till her; ​For meal and maut she disna want.Nor ony thing that's dianty;And now and then a gude fat henTo lay her eggs in plenty.
In winter, when the wind and rainBlaws o'er the house and byre.He sits beside a clean hearth-staneBefore a rousing fire;With nut-brown ale he tells his tale,Which rows him o'er fu' nappy,Who d be a king—hat petty thing,When a miller lives sae happy.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.