AS I was walking all alane |
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I heard twa corbies making a mane: |
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The tane unto the tither did say, |
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'Whar sall we gang and dine the day?' |
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'—In behint yon auld fail dyke |
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I wot there lies a new-slain knight; |
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And naebody kens that he lies there |
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But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. |
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'His hound is to the hunting gane, |
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His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, |
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His lady 's ta'en anither mate, |
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So we may mak our dinner sweet. |
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'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, |
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And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: |
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Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair |
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We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. |
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'Mony a one for him maks mane, |
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But nane sall ken whar he is gane: |
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O'er his white banes, when they are bare, |
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The wind sall blaw for evermair.'
anonymous
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