The Merry Muses of Caledonia/Jenny Macraw

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The Merry Muses of Caledonia by Robert Burns Jenny Macraw

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JENNY MACRAW.

Tune—"The bonny moorhen."

An old song.

Jenny Macraw was a bird o' the game, An' mony a shot had been lows'd at her wame; Be't a lang bearing arrow, or the sharp-rattlin' hail, Still, whirr! she flew off wi' the shot in her tail. Jenny Macraw to the mountains she's gane, Their leagues and their covenants a' she has ta'en; "My head now, and heart now," quo she, "are at rest, An' for my poor c—t, let the deil do his best."   Jenny Macraw on a midsummer morn, She cut off her c—t and she hung't on a thorn; There she loot it hing for a year and a day, But oh! how looked her a—e when her c—t was away?