Verse > Anthologies > T. R. Smith, ed. > Poetica Erotica: A Collection of Rare and Curious Amatory Verse
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T. R. Smith, comp.  Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse.  1921–22.
 
The Mill, Mill—O—
Anonymous
 
(An old Scots countryside song; [1731] from Musical Miscellany, vi. 76; also in Merry Muses of Caledonia [c. 1800], collected by Robert Burns)

BENEATH a green shade I fand a fair maid,
  Was sleeping sound and still, O;
A lowan wi’ love, my fancy did rove
  Around her wi’ good will, O;
Her bosom I prest; but sunk in her rest        5
  She stirr’dna my joy to spill, O,
While kindly she slept, close to her I crept,
  And kiss’d, and kiss’d her my fill, O.
 
Oblig’d by command in Flanders to land,
  T’ employ my courage and skill, O,        10
Frae her quietly I saw, hoist sails and awa,
  For the wind blew fair on the billow.
Twa years brought me hame, where loud-fraising fame
  Tauld me, with a voice right shrill, O,
My lass, like a fool, has mounted the stool,        15
  Nor kend wha had done her the ill, O.
 
Mair fond of her charms, with my son in her arms,
  I ferlyin’ speir’d how she fell, O,
Wi’ the tear in her eye, quoth she, “let me die,
  Sweet sir, gin I can tell, O.”        20
Love gave the command, I took her by the hand,
  And bad her a’ fears expel, O,
And nae mair look wan, for I was the man,
  Wha had done her the deed mysel’, O.
 
My bonny sweet lass, on the gowany grass,        25
  Beneath the Shilling hill, O;
If I did offence, I’ll make ye amends,
  Before I leave Peggy’s mill, O.
O the mill, mill, O; an’ the kill, kill, O,
  An’ the coggin’ of the wheel, O;        30
The sack an the sieve, a’ that ye maun leave,
  An’ round with a sodger reel, O.
 
ANOTHER VERSION

As I came down yon water side,
  And by yon Shilling hill, O,
There I spied a bonny lass,        35
  A lass that I loved right weel, O.
    The mill, mill, O; and the kill, kill, O,
      An’ the coggin’ o’ Peggy’s wheel, O,
    The sack an’ the sieve, a’ she did leave,
      An’ danc’d the miller’s reel, O.        40
 
I spier’d at her, gin she cou’d play,
  But the lassie had nae skill, O,
An’ yet she wasna a’ to blame,
  She pat it in my will, O.
    The mill, mill, O; and the kill, kill, O,        45
      An’ the coggin’ o’ Peggy’s wheel, O,
    The sack an’ the sieve, a’ she did leave,
      An’ danc’d the miller’s reel, O.
 
Then she fell o’er, an’ sae did I,
  An’ danc’d the miller’s reel, O,        50
Whene’er that bonny lassie comes again,
  She shall hae her ma’t ground weel, O.
    The mill, mill, O; and the kill, kill, O,
      An’ the coggin’ o’ Peggy’s wheel, O,
    The sack an’ the sieve, a’ she did leave,        55
      An’ danc’d the miller’s reel, O.
 
 
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