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YOUNG CHILD DTRING.
Then up spak the bride's father, And an angry man was he ;
" Whaever sits by my dochter the day, Ye better awa' wad be." His leave, §-c.
" It's I have intill Paris been, And well my drift can spell;
And ay, whatever I have to say, I tell it best my sell." His leave, §-c.
" Sooth thou hast intill Paris leai^d
A worthless drift to spell, And ay, whatever thou hast to say,
A rogue's tale thou must tell." His leave, $-c.
Ben stept he, young Child Dyre, Nor reck'd he wha might chide;
And he has ta'en a chair in hand, And set him by the bride. His leave, fyc.
'Twas lang i' the night; the bride-folk
Ilk ane look'd for his bed ; And young Child Dyre amang the lave
Speer'd whare he should be laid. His leave, fyc.
" Without, afore the stair steps, Or laigh on the cawsway stane,
And there may lye Sir Dyre, For ither bed we've nane." His leave, Sfc.