Frae 'yont the Tweed;
A bonnier fleesh ne'er cross'd the clips fleece, shears
Than Mailie's, dead.
Wae worth the man wha first did shape Woe to
That vile wanchancie thing—a rape! dangerous
It maks guid fellows girn an' gape, growl
Wi' chokin' dread;
An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape
For Mailie dead.
O a' ye bards on bonnie Doon!