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8
The miller was strappin’, the miller was ruddy:
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady;
The laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl:
She's left the gude fellow, and ta'en the churl.
The miller he hecht her, a heart leal and loving:
The laird did address her wi' matter mair moving,
A fine pacing horse, wi’ a clear chained bridle,
A whip by her side, and a bonny side-saddle.
O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing,
And wae on the love that is fix’d on a mailen!
A tocher’s nae word in a true lover’s parle,
But, gie me my love, and a fig for the warl!
FINIS.
