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90 THE FAUSE LOVER.
A fair maid sat in her bower door,
Wringing her lily hands ; And by it came a sprightly youth,
Fast tripping o'er the strands.
" "Where gang ye, young John," she says, f
" Sae early in the day ? It gars me think, by your fast trip,
Your journey's far away."
He turn'd about wi' surly look,
And said, " What's that to thee ? w
I'm gaen to see a lovely maid,
Mair fairer far than ye."
" Now hae ye play'd me this, fause love,
In simmer, mid the flowers ? I sail repay ye back again, is
In winter, 'mid the showers.
" But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye not turn again ? For as ye look to ither women,
Shall I to ither men." . 20
" Make your choose 0' whom you please,
For I my choice will have; I've chosen a maid mair fair than thee,
I never will deceive."