Peg-a-Ramsey
Cauld is the e’enin’ blast
O’ Boreas o’er the pool,
And dawin’ it is dreary
When birks are bare at Yule.
O bitter 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 bonnie Peg-a-Ramsey
Gat grist to her mill.