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(332) Page 90 - Mary Cunningham
90
MARY ( VS'JVIJSTG HAM.
Air, As I cam down by yon Castle
mc. Its tauld uv-on your wan wan cheek, It's tauld in ycmr troubled c'e.
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Gi'e owre,g'i'e owre wi' thy words o' mirth, Wild is your e'e, Mary Cunningham!
There's nac mirth in your heart ; I,ook na sae wild on mc'
To hide the deadlie thraws o' the breast, I cam to tell that your ance Cause luvt,
Ye hae na yet the art. Is iause nae mair to ye.
I ken ye loed him wi' (hat luve,
.That maidens aften rue 5
.Oh hard, hard was the heart, I wat,
That < ou'd be iause to you!
Does he lo'e me yet f owre late, owre late.
Ye tell the bliss! u' tale!
For the deadlie drug 1 that burns my frame
Maun sune oer life prevail.
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Forgi'e, torgic, Mary Cunning-ham!
HeaVn sair has punishd my sin!
We'll jiart nae mair, but like bridegroom and bride
We'll sleep the cauld yird within .
MY PEGGY IS A YOUNG THING.
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Air, The wawking o 1 the Fauld.
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My Tcggy is a young thing Just enter'd in her teens, Fair
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as the day and sweet as May, Fair as the day and al-lways gay; My
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