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JOHNIE SCOT. |
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It's he rode up, and he rode down,
He rode the castle about, so
Until he spied a fair ladie At a window looking out.
" Here is a silken sark," he said, " Thy ain hand sewed the sleeve ;
And ye must gae to the merry green woods, ■« To Johnie Scot thy love."
" The castle it is high, my boy,
And walled round about; My feet are in the fetters strong,
And how can I get out ? *>
" My garters are o' the gude black iron,
And O but they be cold ; My breast-plate's o' the sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten gold.
" But had I paper, pen, and ink, «
Wi' candle at my command, It's I would write a lang letter
To John in fair Scotland."
Then she has written a braid letter,
And sealed it wi' her hand, so
And sent it to the merry green wood, Wi' her own boy at command. |
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