O ken ye what Meg o' the mill has gotten,
An ken ye what Meg o' the mill has gotten?
She 's gotten a coof wi' a claut o' siller,
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.—

The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy,
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady;
The Laird was a widdefu', bleerit knurl;
She 's left the gude-fallow and taen the churl.—

The Miller he hecht her, a heart leal and luving,
The Laird did address her wi' matter mair muving,
A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chainet bridle,
A whip by her side, and a bony side-sadle.

O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing,
And wae on the luve that 's fix'd on a mailin!
A tocher 's nae word in a true luver's parle,
But, gie me my luve, and a fig for the warl!