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GLENKINDIE. |
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She kent he was nae gentle knicht
That she had latten in ; ro
For neither whan he gaed nor cam, Kist he her cheek or chin.
He neither kist her whan he cam, Nor clappit her when he gaed;
And in and at her bower window, k
The moon shone like the gleed.
" 0, ragged is your hose, Glenkindie,
And riven is your sheen, And reavel'd is your yellow hair
That I saw late yestreen." a>
" The stockings they are Gib my man's,
They came first to my hand; And this is Gib my man's shoon;
At my bed feet they stand. TvereavelTd a' my yellow hair s*
Coming against the wind."
He's taen the harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang, Until he cam to his master,
As fast as he could gang. »>
" Won up, won up, my good master; I fear ye sleep o'er lang ; |
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