ALTHO my bed were in yon muir,
Amang the heather, in my plaidie;
Yet happy, happy would I be,
Had I my dear Montgomeries Peggy.
When oer the hill beat surly storms,
And winter nights were dark and rainy;
Id seek some dell, and in my arms
Id shelter dear Montgomeries Peggy.
Were I a baron proud and high,
And horse and servants waiting ready;
Then a twad gie o joy to me,
The sharint with Montgomeries Peggy.
