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LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET
' But alas, alas !' says Lord Thomas,
O fair is Annet's face ! '— ' But what matter for that, son Thomas ?
She has nae ither grace.'—
' Alas, alas !' says Lord Thomas, ' But white is Annet's hand !'—
' What matter for that, son Thomas ? She has not a fur' o' land.'—
' Sheep will die in cots, mither,
And owsen die in byre; And what is warldis wealth to me.
An' I getna my heart's desire ?'
And he has till his sister gane:
' Now, sister, rede ye me ; O sail I marry the nut-brown bride
And set Fair Annet free?'—
11'se rede ye tak' Fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the brown bride alane, Lest ye should sigh and say Alas !
What is this we brought hame ?'—
'No, I will tak' my mither's counsel,
And marry me out of hand; And I will tak' the nut-brown bride ;
Fair Annet may leave the land.'
fur'] furrow. owsen] oxen.