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LAMKIN. |
97 |
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Then Lamkin he rocked,
And the fause nourice sang, Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradle
The red blood out sprang.
Then out it spak the lady, «
As she stood on the stair, " What ails my bairn, nourice,
That he's greeting sae sair ?
" 0 still my bairn, nourice;
O still him wi' the pap !" so
" He winna still, lady,
For this, nor for that."
" 0 still my bairn, nourice ;
" 0 still him wi' the wand !" " He winna still, lady, m
For a' his father's land."
" 0 still my bairn, nourice,
0 still him wi' the bell!" " He winna still, lady,
Till ye come down yoursel." go
0 the firsten step she steppit,
She steppit on a stane ; But the neisten step she steppit,
She met him, Lamkin. VOL. in. 7 |
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