P P（1 / 1）

pretty peg

as i gaed up by yon gate-end,

when day was wax&039; weary,

wha did i et e down the street,

but pretty peg, y dearie!

her air sae sweet, an&039; shape plete,

wi&039; nae proportion wantg,

the een of love did never ove

wi&039; otion air enchantg

wi&039; lked hands we took the sands,

adown yon dg river;

oh, that sweet hour and shady bower,

fet it shall i never!