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THE GYPSY COUNTESS
' The Earl of Cassilis is lying sick ;
Not one hair I'm sorry; I'd rather have a kiss from Johnny Faa's lips
Than all his gold and his money.'
149. The Baron of Brackley
I NVEREY cam' doun Deeside, whistlin' and playin'; He was at brave Brackley's yates ere it was dawin'.
ir Says, ' Baron of Brackley, are ye within ? There's sharp swords at your yate will gar your blood spin.
in ' Open the yate, Brackley, let us within, Till on the green turf we gar your blood spin.'
The lady rase up, to the window she went; She heard the kye lowin' o'er hill and o'er bent.
v ' O rise up, John,' she says, ' turn back your kye; They're o'er the hills rinnin', they're skippin awye ! ?—
' Come to bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin : For were I to gang out, I'd never get in.
' For there is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads, But a curn o' hired widdifu's, wears belted plaids.'
dawin'] dawn. curn] pack. widdifu's] gallows-birds,
fit to fill a ' widdie 'or halter.