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　　Whistle O'er The Lave O't

　　First when Maggie was my care,

　　Heav'n, I thought, was in her air,

　　Now we're married—speir nae mair,

　　But whistle o'er the lave o't!

　　Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,

　　Sweet and harmless as a child—

　　Wiser men than me's beguil'd;

　　Whistle o'er the lave o't!

　　How we live, my Meg and me,

　　How we love, and how we gree,

　　I care na by how few may see—

　　Whistle o'er the lave o't!

　　Wha I wish were maggot's meat,

　　Dish'd up in her winding-sheet,

　　I could write—but Meg maun see't—

　　Whistle o'er the lave o't! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns