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208 JAMES HEEBIES. |
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She hadna sailed on the sea es
A day but barely ane, Till the thoughts o' grief came in her mind,
And she lang'd for to be hame.
" 0 gentle death, come cut my breath,
I may be dead ere morn ; w
I may be buried in Scottish ground, Where I was bred and born."
" 0 hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing, Let a' your mourning be ; But for a while we'll stay at Eose Isle, " Then see a far countrie.
" Ye'se ne'er be buried in Scottish ground, Nor land ye's nae mair see; I brought you away to punish you,
For the breaking your vows to me. so
" I said ye shou'd see the lilies grow On the banks o' Italy; But I'll let you see the fishes swim, In the bottom o' the sea."
He reached his hand to the topmast, &
Made a' the sails gae down; And in the twinkling o' an e'e,
Baith ship and crew did drown. |
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