MY NANNIE, O, BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows, 'Mang moors and mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos'd, And I'll awa to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud and shrill; The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; But I'll get my plaid, and out I'll steal, And o'er the hill to Nannie, O. My Nannie's charming, sweet, and young; Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O: May ill befa' the flattering tongue That wad beguile my Nannie, O. Her face is fair, her heart is true, As spotless as she's bonnie, O; The opening gowan, wat wi' dew, Nae purer is than Nannie, O. A country lad is my degree, And few there be that ken me, O; But what care I how few there be? I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O. My riches a's my penny fee, And Pmaun guide it cannie: O; But warl's gear ne'er troubles me, My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O.
