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" Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice>
My lady loed thee weel,
The faireft part of my bodie
Is blacker than thy heel.
Zet neir the lefs now, Gill Morice,
For a' thy great beautie,
Ze's rew the day ze eir was born,
That head fall gae wi' me."
Now he has drawn his trufty brand,
And flaked on the ftrae ;
And thro' Gill Morice' fair body
He's 'gart' cauld iron gae.
And he has tain Gill Morice' head
And fet it on a fpeir ;
The meaneft man in a' his train
Has gotten that head to bear.
And he has tain Gill Morice up,
Laid him acrofs his fteid,
And brocht him to his painted bowr,
And laid him on a bed.
The lady fat on caftil wa',
Beheld baith dale and down ;
And there fhe faw Gill Morice' head
Cum trailing to the toun.
« Far better I loe that bluidy head,
«Bot' and that zellow hair,
Than lord Barnard, an a' his lands,
As they lig here aj)d thair.'*

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