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x He 's done him to his sister's bow'r,
Wi' meikle doole an' care ; An' there he saw her Lady Maisry
Kaiming her yellow hair.
'O wha is aught that bairn,' he says,
' That ye sae big are wi' ? And gin ye winna own the truth,
This moment ye sail dee.'
She turn'd her right and roun' about, An' the kame fell frae her han' ;
A trembling seiz'd her fair body, An' her rosy cheek grew wan.
' O pardon me, my brother dear, An' the truth I'll tell to thee ;
My bairn it is to Lord William, An' he is betroth'd to me.'—
' O cou'd na ye gotten dukes, or lords,
Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi' an English dog,
To bring this shame on me ?
' But ye maun gi' up the English lord, Whan your young babe is born ;
For, gin you keep by him an hour langer Your life sail be forlorn.'—
aught] owed. forlorn] lost to you