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Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс)


Whistle Owre the Lave O’t


FIRST when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we’re married-spier nae mair-
  Whistle owre the lave o’t.

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonnie Meg was nature’s child-
Wiser men than me’s beguil’d;
  Whistle owre the lays o’t.

How we live, my Meg and me,
How we love and how we ‘gree,
I care na by how few may see-
  Whistle owre the lave o’t.

Wha I wish were maggots’ meat,
Dish’d up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg may see’t;
  Whistle owre the lave o’t.



Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Epitaph on a Shoolmaster
  2. Extempore in the Court of Session
  3. Inscription on a Goblet
  4. The Rigs O’ Barley
  5. Last May a Braw Wooer


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