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274 TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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No. 291. Sir John Cope trode the north right far. |
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Sir John Cope trode the north right far, Yet ne'er a rebel he cam naur, Until he landed at Dunbar Right early in a morning.
Chorus. Hey I Johnie Cope, are ye wanking yet ? Or are ye sleeping I ivould wit; O, haste ye get ttp, for the drums do beat; O fye I Cope, rise in the morning.
He wrote a challenge from Dunbar, 'Come fight me, Charlie, an ye daur, If it be not by the chance of war I'll give you a merry morning.'
When Charlie look'd the letter upon, He drew his sword the scabbard from— *3o Heaven restore to me my own,
I'll meet you, Cope, in the morning.' |
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