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130 LORD THOMAS AND FAIE ANNET.
He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, w
That was sae sharp and meet, And drave into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.
" Now stay for me, dear Annet," he sed, " Now stay, my dear," he cry'd ; no
Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her side.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa', Fair Annet within the quiere ;
And o' the tane thair grew a birk, us
The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad faine be neare; And by this ye may ken right weil,
They were twa luvers deare. 12c |
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