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72. Young John
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,
' Sae early in the day ? It gars me think, by your fast trip.
Your journey 's far away.'
ill He turn'd about wi' a surly look,
And said, ' What's that to thee ? 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 shall repay ye back again,
In winter, 'mid the showers.
v ' But again, dear love, and again, dear love,
Will ye not turn again ? For as ye look to other women,
Sail I to other men.'—
' Go make your choice of whom you please,
For I my choice will have; I've chosen a maid more fair than thee,
I never will deceive.' 318