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bonie peg-a-rasay

cauld is the e&039;en bst,

o&039; boreas o&039;er the pool,

an&039; da&039; it is dreary,

when birks are bare at yule

cauld bws the e&039;en bst,

when bitter bites the frost,

and, the irk and dreary drift,

the hills and glens are lost:

ne&039;er sae urky blew the night

that drifted o&039;er the hill,

but bonie peg-a-rasay

gat grist to her ill