Altho’ my bed were in yon muir,Amang the heather, in my plaidie;Yet happy, happy would I be,Had I my dear Montgomerie’s Peggy.
When o’er the hill beat surly storms,And winter nights were dark and rainy;I’d seek some dell, and in my armsI’d shelter dear Montgomerie’s Peggy.
Were I a baron proud and high,And horse and servants waiting ready;Then a’ ’twad gie o’ joy to me,—The sharin’t with Montgomerie’s Peggy.