Young Lochinvar (2)/Sleepin' Maggy

by Robert Tannahill

For other versions of this work, see Are Ye Sleepin', Maggie.

SLEEPIN' MAGGY.

Mirk an' rainy is the night,
No a starn in a' the carry,
Lightnings gleam athwart the lift,
An' win's drive wi' winter's fury.
O are ye sleepin', Maggy,
O are ye sleepin', 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 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 waukrife daddie,
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."