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CHILDE WATERS |
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XL VI
She said, l Lullabye, my own dear child!
Lullabye, dear child dear! I would thy father were a king,
Thy mother laid on a bier!'— xlvii ' O open the door, Burd Ellen!
O open and let me in! I want to see if my steed be fed,
Or my greyhounds fit to rin.'—
XLVIII
' How can I open, how shall I open,
How can I open to thee, When lying amang your great steeds' feet,
Your young son on my knee ?'
XLIX
He strack the door hard wi' his foot,
And push'd it wi' his knee; And iron locks and iron bars
Into the floor flung he. ' Be not afraid, Burd Ellen.' he says,
' There 's none comes in but me.'
L
s An asking, an asking, Childe Waters,
An asking I beg of thee : May the meanest maid about your house
Bring a glass o' water to me ! ' Li Up he has ta'en his bonny young son,
Gar'd wash him wi' the milk ; And up he has taken his fair lady,
Gar'd row her in the silk, row] wrap
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