Bonie Peg

As I came in by our gate end,As day was waxin' weary,O wha came tripping down the street,But bonie Peg, my dearie!

Her air sae sweet, and shape complete,Wi' nae proportion wanting,The Queen of Love did never moveWi' motion mair enchanting.

Wi' linked hands, we took the sandsA-down yon winding river;And, oh! that hour and broomy bower,Can I forget it ever?