The Oxford Book of Ballads - online book

A Selection Of The Best English Lyric Ballads Chosen & Edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch

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O  he swam high, and he swam low, And he swam to and fro,
But he couldna spy the hazel-bush Wad bring him to the brow.
He 's sunk and he never rase agen
Into the pot sae deep . . . And up it waken'd May Margaret
Out o' her drowsie sleep.
' Come hither, come here, my mither dear, Read me this dreary dream ;
I  dream'd my Willie was at our gates,
And nane wad let him in.'—
' Lie still, lie still now, my Meggie :
Lie still and tak' your rest ; Sin' your true-love was at your gates
It's but twa quarters past,'—
Nimbly, nimbly rase she up,
And nimbly put she on ; And the higher that the lady cried,
The louder blew the win'.
The firstan step that she stept in,
She steppit to the queet : ' Ohon, alas !' said that lady,
This water 's wondrous deep,'
queet] ankle.
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