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THE CLERK'S TWA SONS 0' OWSENFOKD. 67
Nor will I be sae gude a man,
As gie them baith to thee; eo
But before the morn at twal o'clock,
Ye'U see them hangit hie !"
Ben it came the Mayor's dauchters,
Wi' kirtle coat alone ; Their eyes did sparkle like the gold, <b
As they tripped on the stone.
" Will ye gie us our loves, father,
For gold, or yet for fee ? Or will ye take our own sweet lives,
And let our true loves be ? " ro
He's taen a whip into his hand,
And lashed them wondrous sair; " Gae to your bowers, ye vile limmers ;
Ye'se never see them mair."
Then out it speaks auld Owsenford ; «
A sorry man was he : " Gang to your bouirs, ye lilye flouirs ;
For a' this maunna be."
Then out it speaks him Hynde Henry:
" Come here, Janet, to me ; so
Will ye gie me my faith and troth, And love, as I gae thee ? "