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Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,

Down by her mother's dwelling ! I turn'd me round to hide the food

That in my een was swelling.


W;' alter'd voice quoth I, “Sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,
Oh, happy, happy may he be

That's dearest to thy bosom!
My purse is light, I've far to gang,

And fain wad be thy lodger;
I've served my king and country lang, -

Take pity on a sodger.”

Sae wistfully she gazed on me,

And lovelier was than ever :
Quo' she, “A sodger ance I lo’ed,

Forget him shall I never ;
Our humble cot and hamely fare

Ye freely shall partake o't;
That gallant bauge, the dear cockade,

Ye're welcome for the sake o't!"

She gazed—she redden'd like a rose-

Syne pale like ony lily!
She sank within my arms, and cried,

“ Art thou my ain dear Willie ?” “ By Him who made yon sun and sky,

By whom true love's regarded, I am the man; and thus


still True lovers be rewarded.

“ The wars are o’er, and I'm come hame,

And find thee still true-hearted; Though poor in gear, we're rich in love;

And mair, we’se ne'er be parted.”

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