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2 She kindled up his clothes and bid him to be gone, How slowly and slily he moved along.
By young Samuel Moor they forced me to ride, Took six double horsemen to ride by my side.
3 As soon as the minister he entered the door, My ear-bobs they bursted and fell to the floor; In sixty-five pieces my stay-laces flew;
I thought in my soul my poor heart would break in two.
4 Behind my oldest brother they carried me safely home, And through my mother's chamber and into my own room, And by my own bedside I throwed myself down,
How sore, sick and wounded my poor body I found.
5 She called to her old mother: Pray do shut the door, By this time tomorrow let in Samuel Moor.
He never shall enjoy me nor call me his bride, For by this time tomorrow it's I will be dead.
*lf D be tonic: — Mode 3, a.