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I. LOVE : PERSONAL |
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The moon was sinking in the west
Wi' visage pale and wan, As my bonie, westlin weaver lad
Convoy'd me through the glen.
But what was said, or what was done,
Shame fa' me gin I tell; But O ! I fear the kintra soon
Will ken as weel 's mysel! |
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How long and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie! I sleepless lye frae e'en to morn, ) ,.
Tho' I were ne'er sae weary. S
When I think on the happy days
I spent wi' you, my dearie: And now what lands between us lye, 1 ,
How can I be but eerie !
How slow ye move, ye heavy hours, As ye were wae and weary!
It wasna sae ye glinted by, ) ,.
When I was wi' my dearie. \
c 2 |
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