Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay

by Robert Burns

Cauld is the e’enin blast,

  O’ Boreas o’er the pool,

An’ dawin’ it is dreary,

  When birks are bare at Yule.

Cauld blaws the e’enin blast,

  When bitter bites the frost,

And, in the mirk and dreary drift,

  The hills and glens are lost:

Ne’er sae murky blew the night

  That drifted o’er the hill,

But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay

  Gat grist to her mill.