song
tune—“my nanie, o.”
behind yon hills where lugar flows,
'mang moors an' mosses many, o,
the wintry sun the day has clos'd,
and i'll awa to nanie, o.
the westlin wind bws loud an' shill;
the night's baith mirk and rainy, o;
but i'll get my pid an' out i'll steal,
an' owre the hill to nanie, o.
my nanie's charming, sweet, an' young;
fu' wiles to win ye, o:
may ill befa' the fttering tongue
that wad beguile my nanie, o.
her face is fair, her heart is true;
as spotless as she
Song(1/3)