Page:Young Lochinvar (3).pdf/8

 Fearfu' soughs the boor-tree bank,

The rifted wood roars wild an' dreary,

Loud the iron yate does clank,

And cry o' howlets maks me eerie.

O are ye sleepin', Maggy, &c.

Aboon my breath I darena speak,

For fear I rouse your wankrife dadie,

Cauld's the blast upon my cheek,

O rise, rise my bonny lady!

O are ye sleepin', Maggy, &c.

She's op't the door she's let him in,

He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie;

"Blaw your warst ye rain an' win,

Since now I'm in aside ye Maggy."