Walkin' out ae mornin' early,
Ken ye wha I chanced to see?
But my lassie, gay and frisky,
Peggie wi' the glancin' e'e.
Phoebus, left the lap o' Thetis,
Fast was lickin' up the dew,
Whan, ayont a risin' hilloc,
First my Peggie came in view.
Hark ye, I gaed up to meet her;
But whane'er my face she saw,
Up her plaidin' coat she kiltit,
And in daffin' scour'd awa'.
Weel kent I that though my Peggie
Ran sae fast out owre the mead,
She was wantin' me to follow--
Yes, ye swains, an' sae I did.
At yon burnie I o'ertook her,
Whare the shinin' pebbles lie;
Whare the flowers, that fringe the border,
Soup the stream, that wimples by.
While wi' her I sat reclinin',
Frae her lips I staw a kiss;
While she blush'd, I took anither,--
Shepherds, was there ill in this?
Could a lass, sae sweet an' comely,
Ever bless a lover's arms?
Could the bonnie wife o' Vulcan
Ever boast o' hauf the charms?
While the zephyrs fan the meadows,
While the flow'rets crown the lea,
While they paint the gowden simmer,
Wha sae blest as her an' me?