Come In From the Byre, Mag Hand

Come in from the byre, Mag Hand Sit you down there firnenst the coatstand, But first light the fire and Throw on the dinner Mag Hand Lave the Childer outside, ah shur look they'll be grand D'ye mind the Carnival, Mag? Don't be lettin' on that you don't Shur you borrowed your sisters coat, hat and shoes And a broach for the style yes ye did, So you did, Margaret Hand Oh but you cut a fine rug Mag Hand All the sulky lads on the side agreed without doubt They looked moon, maw mouth'd and meek While you moved unbounded and sleek Ahh you stepped and bounced like a young wan Mag They knew well the kind of ye And slithered behind a' ye But wouldn't encroach or mooch or intrude Because, come here to I tell you my love (something they'd not understand) You were such a grand lassie, Back then in the prime But you're now a fine woman Mag Hand