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LADY MAISRY |
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XXVII
Or he was near a mile awa',
She heard his wild horse sneeze:
( Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's na come to my knees.'
XXVIII
O whan he lighted at the gate, She heard his bridle ring ;
' Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It 's far yet frae my chin.
XXIX
' Mend up the fire to me, brother,
Mend up the fire to me ; For I see him comin' hard an' fast,
Will soon mend it up to thee.
XXX
' O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,
Sae hard as they are boun', I would have turn'd me frae the gleed,
And casten out your young son.'—
XXXI
' O I'll gar burn for you, Maisiy, Your father an' your mother;
An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an' your brother.
XXXII
i An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry,
The chief of a' your kin ; An' the last bonfire that I come to,
Mysel' I will cast in.'
gleed] glowing fire, embers. |
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