Page:Roy's wife of Aldivalloch (1).pdf/7

 Would I could gues, I do profes,

I peak and do not flatter,

Of all the women in the world,

I never would come at her.

Her body is betowed well,

a handome grave doth bide her!

But ure her oul is not in hell,

the de'il would not abide her.

I rather think he is aloft,

and imitating thunder,

For why; methinks I hear her voice,

rending the clouds aunder.

ERRY may the maid be,

that marries the miller,

For foul day and fair day,

he's ay bringing till her;

Has ay a penny in his pure,

for dinner and for upper;

And gin he pleae, a good fat cheee,

and lumps of yellow butter.

When Jamie firt did woo me,

I pier'd what was his calling,

Fair maid, ays he, O come and ee,

you're welcome to my dwelling:

Though I was hy, yet I could py,

the truth of what he told me;