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OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE |
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XXXI
And he shope the cross on his right sho'lder Of the white flesh and the redd,
And he went him into the Holy Land, Wheras Christ was quicke and deade. |
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. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet
i
LORD THOMAS and Fair Annet Sat all day on a hill; When night was come, and sun was set, They had not talk'd their fill.
ii Lord Thomas said a word in jest,
Fair Annet took it ill: ' I'll never wed a tocherless maid
Against my ain friends' will.'—
in ' Gif ye'll not wed a tocherless wife,
A wife will ne'er wed ye: Fare ye well now, Lord Thomas,
It's fare ye well a wee.'
IV
O Annet she's gane till her bower, Lord Thomas down the den;
And he 's come till his mither's bower By the lee light o' the moon'
shope] shaped, made. tocherless] without a dowry, calm, pleasant.
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