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" O mercy, mercy, Lamkin ! as
Ha'e mercy upon me ! Though you've ta'en my young son's life,
Ye may let mysel be."
" 0 sail I kill her, nourice ?
Or sail I lather be?" *>
" O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,
For she ne'er was good to me."
" O scour the bason, nourice,
And mak it fair and clean, For to keep this lady's heart's blood, n
For she's come o' noble kin."
" There need nae bason, Lamkin ;
Lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart's blood
0' the rich than o' the poor? " a>
But ere three months were at an end,
Lord Wearie came again ; But dowie dowie was his heart
When first he came hame.
" 0 wha's blood is this," he says, m
" That lies in the chamer ? " " It is your lady's heart's blood ;
'Tis as clear as the lamer."