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Poem	THERE was a lass, they ca’d her Meg, And she held o’er the moors to spin; There was a lad that follow’d her, They ca’d him Duncan Davison. The moor was dreigh, and Meg was skeigh, Her favour Duncan could na win; For wi’ the rock she wad him knock, And aye she shook the temper-pin. As o’er the moor they lightly foor, A burn was clear, a glen was green, Upon the banks they eas’d their shanks, And aye she set the wheel between: But Duncan swoor a haly aith, That Meg should be a bride the morn; Then Meg took up her spinning-graith, And flang them a’ out o’er the burn. We will big a wee, wee house, And we will live like king and queen; Sae blythe and merry’s we will be, When ye set by the wheel at e’en. A man may drink, and no be drunk; A man may fight, and no be slain; A man may kiss a bonie lass, And aye be welcome back again!
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