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He's kept her there in Elmond's-wood,
For six lang years and one; Till six pretty sons to him she hear, as
And the seventh she's brought home.
It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home ;
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his eldest son. «>
And when they were on a guid way,
Wi' slowly pace did walk, The boy's heart being something wae,
He thus began to talk: —
" A question I wou'd ask, father, «
Gin ye wou'dna angry be ? " " Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me."
" I see my mither's cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry ; so
And I wonder what aileth my mither, To mourn continually."
" Your mither was a king's daughter, Sprung frae a high degree; And she might hae wed some worthy prince, « Had she nae been stown by me.