HEY, the dusty Miller,
And his dusty coat,
He will win a shilling,
Or he spend a groat:
Dusty was the coat,
Dusty was the colour,
Dusty was the kiss
That I gat frae the Miller.
Hey, the dusty Miller,
And his dusty sack;
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck:
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller;
I wad gie my coatie
For the dusty Miller.
More verses by Robert Burns
- The Mauchline Lady: A Fragment
- Epistle To John Rankine
- Sonnet To R. Graham, Esq., On Receiving A Favour
- Craigieburn Wood
- Epitaph On William Hood, Senior