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LORD DONALD. 247
"What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald,
my son ? What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie
young man ? " a>
" My horse and the saddle:—mither, mak my bed
sune, For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie
doun."
" What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald,
my son ? What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young
man?" " Baith my gold box and rings:—mither, mak my
bed sune, 36
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie
doun."
" What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord
Donald, my son ? What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie
young man ? " " The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree, And lat her hang there for the poysoning o'
me." « |
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