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142 THE DEATH OF PARCY EEED. |
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They hunted high, they hunted low, They hunted up, they hunted down,
Until the day was past the prime,
And it grew late in the afternoon. «
They hunted high in Batinghope,
When as the sun was sinking low, Says Parey then, " Ca' off the dogs,
We'll bait our steeds and homeward go."
They lighted high in Batinghope, «
Atween the brown and benty ground;
They had but rested a little while, Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.
There's nane may lean on a rotten staff,
But him that risks to get a fa'; *>
There's nane may in a traitor trust, And traitors black were every Ha'.
They've stown the bridle off his steed, And they've put water in his lang gun ;
They've fixed his sword within the sheath, h That out again it winna come.
" Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
Or by your enemies be ta'en; For yonder are the five Crosiers
A-coming owre the Hingin-stane." so |
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