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(345) Page 329 - Maggie's tocher
OR, CALEDONIAN WARBLER. 329
MAGGIE'S TOCHER.
The meal was dear short syne,
We buckled us a' thegither ;
And Maggie was in her prime
When Willie made courtship till her.
Twa pistols charged beguess,
To gie the courting shot ;
And syne came ben the lass,
Wi' swats drawn frae the butt.
He first speir'd at the gudeman,
And syne at Giles the mither,
An' ye wad gie's a bit land,
We'd buckle us e'en thegither.
My dochter ye shall hae,
I'll gie you her by the hand :
But I'll part wi' my wife, by my fae,
Or I part wi' my land.
Your tocher it sail be good,
There's nane sail hae its maik,
The lass bound in her snoud,
And Crummie wha kens her stake
Wi' an auld bedding o' claes,
Was left me by my mither,
They're jet black o'er wi flaes,
Ye may cuddle in them thegither.

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