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MUIRLAND MEG.
Tune—"Eppy Macnab."
An old song, a copy of which exists in Burns's handwriting.
Amang our young lasses there's Muirland Meg,
She'll beg or she work, and she'll play or she beg;
At thretteen her maidenhead flew to the gate,
An' the door o' her cage stands open yet.
And for a sheep-cloot she'll do't, she'll do't,
And for a sheep-cloot she'll do't;
And for a toop-horn she'll do't to the morn,
And merrily turn and do't, and do't.
Her kittle black een they wad thirl ye thro',
Her rosebud lips cry kiss me just now;
The curls and links o' her bonny black hair,
Wad put you in mind that the lassie has mair.
And for, etc.
An armfu' o' love is her bosom sae plump;
A span o' delight is her middle sae jimp,
A taper white leg, and a thumpin' thie.
And a fiddle near by ye can play a wee.
And for, etc.
Love's her delight and kissing's her treasure.
She'll stick at nae price an ye gie her good measure;
As lang's a sheep-fit an' as girt's a goose egg,
O, that's the measure o' Muirland Meg.
And for, etc.
