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(323) Page 221 - Meg o' the mill

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(323) Page 221 - Meg o' the mill
221
Although the laird himsell forbid it,
I sail gie his neck a thraw.
I never met wi' sic a turn :
At e'en I had baith ewe and horn,
Safe steekit up ; but, 'gain the morn,
Baith ewe and horn were stown awa.
A' the claes that we hae worn,
Frae her and hers sae aft was shorn ;
The loss o' her we could hae borne,
Had fair-strae death ta'en her awa.
O, had she died o' croup or cauld,
As ewies die when they grow auld.
It hadna been, by mony fauld,
Sae sair a heart to ane o' us a'.
But thus, puir thing, to lose her life,
Beneath a bluidy villain's knife ;
In troth, I fear that our gudewife
Will never get abune 't ava.
O, all ye bards benorth Kinghorn,
Call up your muses, let them mourn
Our ewie wi' the crookit horn,
Frae us stown, and fell'd and a' !
MEG O' THE MILL.
BURNS.
Tune — O ionnie lass, will you lie in a barrack.
O, KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten,
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten ?
t2

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