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*' O had your tongues, my brethren dear, ios
And mourn nae mair for me ; Ye're seeking grace frae a graceless face,
For there is nane to gie.
" Ye'll tak' a bit o' canvas elaith,
And pit it ower my ee ; no
And Jack, my man, ye'll be at hand,
The hour that I su'd die.
" Syne aff ye'll tak' my bluidy sark,
Gie it fair Margaret Grahame ; For she may curse the dowie dell in
That brought King James him hame.
" Ye'll bid her mak' her bed narrow,
And mak' it naeways wide ; For a brawer man than young Waters
Will ne'er streek by her side. 120
" Bid her do weel to my young son,
And gie him nurses three; For gin he live to be a man,
King James will gar him die."
He call'd upon the headsman then, us
A purse o' gowd him gae ; Says, " Do your office, headsman, boy,
And mak' nae mair delay."
" O head me soon, O head me clean,
And pit me out o' pine ; ia>
For it is by the king's command; Gang head me till his min'. VOL. in. 20