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‹‹‹ prev (47) Page [45]Page  [45]My nanny o

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(48) Page  [46] - Maggie's tocher
JM aggi e s To clxe r
Cmirtthh, till her. Tan Pillals chared ei'e the Ccurtimshg^And
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fyne'came ben "the Lafs wi Swats drawn frae the ThtttMe firfifpeerd at the Guidman, and
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J fyne at Giles the Mither and ye wad gi's obit Land, We li buckle us een the
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aither, Jo
, .Mty Daughter lie fall hae,
III (LVpn lier be the 'liand;
Hut 111 part wVmfy Wife be my ~Fae)
Or I part wV my Land.
Your Tocher it Jail be apod.,
There's nanejall.hae its niaik,
The Lafs bound in her Snood,
And Crtimmie wha kens her Stake:
With an avid Bedden o' Claiths,
Was left me be my Mither,
They're ict black
6 er
'cudle in them tJie cither, Jo
* v—'
~Ye (peak right well, Guidman,
But ye maun mend your Hand,
And think o' Mode/tip
Gin yell na guat your Land :
We are but Wruna ye ken,
And now rue're pawn the aither,
A HoTife is butt and benn,
And Cr-ammie flie'H want lier Father,
The Bairns are comina. on,
And they'll cry O Mir Mither,
We ha'e noivther Tot nor Tan,
But four bare Leas the aither, Jo ■
Your Tocher's be good enouah,
For that ye need najear,
Trva good Stilts to the Tleuph,
An ye your fell maun fteer;
Ye rail ha'e twa aood Focks,
That anes were o' the Tweel,
The tarie to had the Grots,
The ither to had the Meal ■
With an avid Rift made o" Wands,
And that fall be your Coffer t
WAiken "woody "Bandsy
And that{?nay had your Tocher, Jo .
Consider well, Guidman,
We ha'e but borrowd Gear
The Horfe that I ride on,
Is Sandy Wilfcms Mear \
The Sadie's nane o1 my ain,
And thae's are but borromd Boots,
An whan that I gae home
I maun take me to my Coots .
The Cloak is G-eordy Watts ,
That oars me look fae croufe ;
Come fill us a Coa o Swats,
We'll mak na mair tovm Rufe, Jo .
I like ye well ypui^_ Lad,
For tellvwme Jhe plain,
I married wlien little I had,
O' Gear that was my am .
Brit Jin that Things are fae,
The j3ridefhe maun come^furth,
Tlw' a tlie Gear flwll ha'e,
It'll le but Uttlc worth-
A Bargan it maun be,
Fy cry on Giles the Mither :
Content am I, quoth Jhe,
E'en jar the Hifsie come hitner.
The Bride fie (yide till her Bed,
Tlie Bridearoom he came till her,
The Fidler craj^ in at the Fit
And they cudl'd it a tjwaither, Jo .

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