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To the fame of your name,
when the trumpets ceaſe to blow.
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the trumpets ceaſe to blow.
O ARE YE SLEEPIN' MAGGIE.
O are ye ſleepin' Maggie?
O are ye ſleepin' Maggie?
Let me in, for loud the lion
Is roarin' o'er the warlock craigie!
Mirk an' rainy is the night,
Ne'er a ſtarn keeks thro' the carry,
Lightnings gleam athwart the lift,
An' winds drive wi' winter's fury!
Fearfu' foughs the bowr-tree bank!
The rifted wood roars wild an' dreary
Loud the iron yate daes clank,
An' cry o' howlets maks me eerie.
Aboon my breath I daurna ſpeak,
For fear I rouſe your waukriſe Daddy,
Cauld's the blaſt upon my cheek,
O riſe, riſe my bonny Lady!
