Page:Goldfinch (2).pdf/5

 5 Mirk an' rainy is the night, No a starn in a' the carry, Lightnings gleam athwart the lift, And winds drive wi' winter's fury. O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c. Fearfu' soughs the bour-tree bank, The rifted wood roars wild and dreary, Loud the iron yate does clank, And cry o howlets mat's me eerie, O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c. Aboon my breath I darena speak, For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie, Cauld's the blast upon my cheek. O rise, rise, my bonny lady! O are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c. She op'd the door, she let me in, He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie- " Blaw your warst, ye rain and win', "Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye." Now since ye're wauken, Maggie, Now since ye're wauken, Maggie, What care I for howlet's cry, For bour-tree bank, or warlock craigie?