Meg
At sixteen years I was blue ans sad
then father said I should find a lad
So I set out to become a wife,
An' found the real love of my life
His name it was Chris, and the last was MacGill
I met him one night pickin' flowers on the hill
He had lots of charm an' a certain kind o' touch,
An a certain kind of eagerness that pleased me very much
so there 'neath the moon where romance often springs,
I gave him my heart--an' a few other things
I don't know how long that I stayed up on the hill,
But the moon had disappeared, and so had Christopher MacGill
So I went home an' I thought I'd die,
Till Father said, make another try
So out I went to become a wife,
An' found the real love of my lfe
He came from the lowlands, the lowlands said he
I saw him an' knew he was perfect for me
Jus' one thing that puzzled me an' it always will,
Was he told me he had heard about me from his friend MacGill
We quick fell in love an' went down by the creek
The next day he said he'd be back in a week,
An' I thought he would, for now how was I to know
That of all the lowland laddies, there was never one as low!
I told my father the awful truth
He said, "What difference? Ye've got your youth"
So out I went mad to be a wife,
An' found the real love of my life
Oh, he was a poet, a rhymer was he
He read me some verse he had written for me
He said they would move me, these poems from his pen,
An' how right he was, because they moved me right into the glen
We stayed till the dawn came an' lighted the sky,
Then I shook his hand an' I bid him good-bye
I never went back, for what I had heard was true:
That a poet only writes about the things he cannot do
My pa said, "Look out for men who think
Ye'll be more certain with men who drink"
So out I went to become a wife,
An' found the real love of my life
Oh, he was a solier, a fine Highland son
He told me about all the battle he'd won
He wasted his time tellin' me about his might,
For one look at him decided me to not put up a fight
We skirmished for hours that night in the glen,
an' I found the sword has more might than the pen,
But when I was drowsin' I snored to my dismay,
An' he thought it was a bugle an' got up an' marched away
Now Pa said, "Daughter, there must be one,
Someone who's true, or too old to run"
So I'm still lookin' to be a wife,
An' find the real love of my life