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.