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Then she's gane to her little young son, And kiss'd him cheek and chin;
Sae has she to her sleeping husband, And dune the same to him.
" 0 sleep ye, wake ye, my husband, I wish ye wake in time; I woudna for ten thousand pounds, This night ye knew my mind."
She's drawn the slippers on her feet, "Were cover'd o'er wi' gold ;
"Well lined within wi' velvet fine, To had her frae the cold.
She hadna sailed upon the sea
A league but barely three, Till she minded on her dear husband,
Her little young son tee.
" O gin I were at land again, At land where I wou'd be, The woman ne'er shou'd bear the son, Shou'd gar me sail the sea."
" 0 hold your tongue, my sprightly flower Let a' your mourning be ; I'll show you how the lilies grow On the banks o' Italy."