O Merry may the maid be That marries with the miller For foul day and fair day He's ay bringing till her Has ay a penny in his purse For dinner and for supper: And gin he please a good fat cheese And lumps of yellow butter. When Jamie first did woo me, I speir'd what was his calling; Fair maid says he, O come and see, You're welcome to my dwalling; Though I was shy, yet I cou'd spy The truth of what he told me And that his house was warm and couth And room in it to hold me. Behind the door a bag of meal And in the kist was plenty, Of good hard cakes his mither bakes, And bannocks were na scanty; A good fat sow, a sleeky cow Was standin in the byre, Whilst lazy pouss with mealy mouse Was playing at the fire. Good signs are these, my mither says, And bids me tak the miller; For foul day and fair day He's ay bringing till her; For meal and malt she does na want, Nor ony thing that's dainty; And now and then a keckling hen To lay her eggs in plenty. In winter when the wind and rain Blaws o'er the house and byre, He sits beside a clean hearth stane Before a rousing fire; With nut-brown ale he tells his tale Which rows him o'er fou nappy Who'd be a king, a petty thing When a miller lives so happy.
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