When I first saw my love Peggy, the snow was on the brae
She was half-haar-hidden, singing songs of spring
I helped her with her burden, but I knew not what to say
She made my hands feel warm though the wind did sting
I never found the words, I never sent her poems of lust
I should have grabbed her round the waist and kissed her wild
Instead I stayed my hand, I played the foot and gathered dust
While some other man he made my love with child
And every winter since, when skies are grey and fields are bare
I watch the swirling snow, and shaking firs
My back is bending daily, there is grey all through my hair
But even now my aging heart is hers