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OR OF PRESTON-PANS. 173
Are deck'd wi' spoils of war, man; Fu' bald can tell how hernainsell "Was ne'er sae pra before, man.
At the thorn-tree, which you may see
Bewest the meadow-mill, man, There mony slain lay on the plain,
The clans pursuing still, man. Sick unco' hacks, and deadly whacks, |
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I never saw the like, man; Lost hands and heads cost them their |
no deads, |
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That fell near Preston-dyke, man.
That afternoon, when a was done,
I gaed to see the fray, man ; But had I wist what after past, ns
I'd better staid away, man: On Seaton sands, wi' nimble hands,
They pick'd my pockets bare, man; But I wish ne'er to drie sick fear,
For a' the sum and mair, man. 1* |
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