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THE GARDENER |
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VI |
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' Your gloves sail be the marigold,
All glittering to your hand, Well spread o'er wi' the blue blaewort
That grows amang corn-land.,— |
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VJi
' O fare ye well, young man,' she says,
' Farewell, and I bid adieu ; If you can fancy me,' she says,
i O I cannot fancy you.
VIII
' Sin ye've provided a weed for me
Amang the summer flowers, Then I'se provide anither for you
Amang the winter showers.—
IX
' The new-fa'n snaw to be your smock.
Becomes your body best; An' your head sail be wound wi' the eastern wind,
An' the cauld rain on your breast.'
blaewort] corn bluebottle. |
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805 |
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