Ellen More (1824, Edinburgh)/Sleeping Maggie
SLEEPING MAGGIE.
Mirk an' rainy is the night,
No a starn in a the carry,
Lightnings gleam athwart the litt,
And winds drive wi' winter’s fury.
O are ye sleeping Maggy
O are ye ⟨sleeping⟩ Maggy?
Let me in, for loud the linn,
Is roaring o’er the warlock craigie.
Fearfu' soughs the boor-tree bank.
The rifted wood roars wild and dreary,
Loud the iron yett does clank,
And cry o’ howlets maks me eerie.
O are ye sleeping &c.
Aboon my breath I daurna speak,
For fear I rouse your waukrife daddy,
Cauld’s the blast upon my cheek,
Rise, O rise my bonnie lady.
O are ye sleeping, &c.
She’s opt the door, she's let me in,
He cuist aside his dreepin plaidie,
'Blaw your warst ye rain and win’,
Since Maggie, now I’m in beside you.
Now I’m in beside you, &c.
FINIS