My Peggy is a young thing, 
Just enter'd in her teens;
Fair as the day, and sweet as May, 
Fair as the day, and always gay;

My Peggy is a young thing, 
And I'm not very auld;
Yet well I like to meet her at 
The wawking of the fauld.

My Peggy speaks sae sweetly,
When e'er we meet alane, 
I wish nae mair to lay my care,
I wish nae mair of a' that's rare. 

My Peggy speaks sae sweetly,
To a' the lave I'm cauld; 
But she gars a' my spirits glow, 
At wawking of the fauld.

My Peggy smiles sae kindly, 
When e'er I whisper love;
That I look down on a' the town, 
That I look down upon a crown.

My Peggy smiles sae kindly, 
It makes me blyth and bauld; 
And naething gi'es me sic delight,
As wawking of the fauld.

My Peggy sings sae saftly, 
When on my pipe I play;
By a' the rest it is confest, 
By a' the rest she sings the best.

My Peggy sings sae saftly, 
And in her sangs are tauld,
With innocence, the wale of sense,
At wawking of the fauld.