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THE GAT GOSS-HAWK. 281 |
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" A boon, a boon, my father deir,
A boon I beg of thee!" — " Ask not that partghty Scottish lord,
For him you ne'er shall see :
" But, for your honest asking else, ss
"Weel granted it shall be."— " Then, gin I die in Southern land,
In Scotland gar bury me.
" And the first kirk that ye come to,
Ye's gar the mass be sung ; oo
And the next kirk that ye come to, Ye's gar the bells be rung.
" And when you come to St. Mary's kirk,
Ye's tarry there till night." A.nd so her father pledg'd his word, «
And so his promise plight.
She has ta'en her to her bigly bour
As fast as she could fare ; And she has drank a sleepy draught,
That she had mix'd wi' care. 100
And pale, pale, grew her rosy cheek,
That was sae bright of blee, And she seem'd to be as surely dead
As any one could be. |
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