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Aldingar amang auld awaye babe bairn baith ballad bonny bower bride Buchan's castle Childe Waters Clyde's water daughter daye doun dowie Earl Richard Ellen Fair Annie fair Scotland father Fause Foodrage fayre frae Gae hame gane gang gi'e gold gowd gude lord ha'e hadna hand heart king kirk knee knight ladye laird Lammikin land Lord Weire maid Mary Hamilton maun Minstrelsy mony mother dear Motherwell Motherwell's nae mair nane ne'er never nourice o'er ower Patrick Spence Queen rade ride sall sayd Sayes Says Scottish Border shee Sir Aldingar Sir Hugh Sir Patrick Sir Patrick Spens slain spak steed sweet sword syne Syr Cauline ta'en tears thee thou thro town true love unto weel Whan wine winna wold woman Yarrow ye'll young Hunting young Waters
Стр. 154 - Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm." They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea. The ankers brak, and the top-masts lap, It was sic a deadly storm ; And the waves cam o'er the broken ship, Till a
Стр. 130 - You must be father and mother both, And uncle all in one; God...
Стр. 59 - In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.
Стр. 60 - Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue een; Wi ae lock o his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
Стр. 87 - There came a man, by middle day, He spied his sport, and went away ; And brought the king that very night, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. He slew my knight, to me sae dear ; He slew my knight, and poin'd...
Стр. 140 - When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' the bairns came hame, When every lady gat hame her son, The Lady Maisry gat nane.
Стр. 154 - O where will I get a gude sailor, To take my helm in hand, Till I get up to the tall topmast, To see if I can spy land ? " " O here am I, a sailor gude, « To take the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast, — But I fear you'll ne'er spy land.
Стр. 151 - O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence Cum sailing to the land. O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi thair gold kems in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair.