The Pocket Songster/O, Are Ye Sleepin', Maggie
O, ARE YE SLEEPIN', MAGGIE.
O, are ye sleepin', Maggie?
O, are ye sleepin', Maggie?
Let me in, for loud the linn
Is roarin' o'er the warlock craigie!
Mirk an' rainy is the night,
No a starn in a' the carrie,
Lightnings gleam athwart the lift,
An' winds drive on wi' winter's fury
Fearfu' soughs the boor-tree bank,
The rifted wood roars wild an' drearie,
Loud the iron yett does clank,
An' cry o' howlets maks me eerie.
O, are ye sleepin', &c.
Aboon my breath I daurna speak,
For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie;
Cauld's the blast upon my cheek,
O rise, O rise, my bonnie lady.
O, are ye sleepin', &c.
She opt the door, she let him in,
He cuist aside his dreepin' 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 howlets' cry,
For boor-tree bank, or warlock craigie,
Tannahill.