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GIL KORRICE. |
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" My bird Willie, my boy Willie,
My dear Willie," he sayd : 20
" How can ze strive against the stream ?
For I sail be obeyd."
" Bot, 0 my master dear!" he cry'd, " In grene wod ze 're zour lain;
Gi owre .sic thochts, I walde ze rede, as For fear ze should be tain."
" Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi' speid: If ze refuse my heigh command,
I '11 gar zour body bleid. so
" Gae bid hir take this gay mantel,
'T is a' gowd bot the hem; Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,
And bring nane bot hir lain :
" And there it is, a silken sarke, as
Hir ain hand sewd the sleive ; And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld barons leave."
" Yes, I will gae zour black errand,
Though it be to zour cost; *>
Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd, In it ze sail find frost. |
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