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1O ye maun pu' the heather green, An' mak' a bed to me.'
Syne pu'd he has the heather green,
An' made to her a bed, An' up has he ta'en his gay mantle,
An' o'er it he has spread.
' Tak' off your claiths now, King Henry,
An' lie down by my side! '— 'O God forbid,' says King Henry,
' That ever the like betide; That ever a fiend that wons in hell
Shou'd streak down by my side! '
But whan day was come, and night was gane, An' the sun shone thro' the ha',
The fairest ladye that ever was seen [Cam' to his armes twa].
' O weel is me ! ' says King Henry, i How lang '11 this last wi' me ?'
Then out an' spake that fair ladye, ; Even till the day you dee.
' For I've met wi' many a gentle knight
That's gien me sic a fill; But never before wi' a courteous knight
That ga'e me a' my will.'