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BEHIND yon hills, where Lugar flows

'Mang moors and mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has closed,

And I 'll awa' to Nannie, O.

The westlin wind blaws loud and shrill ;

The night's baith mirk and rainy, 0; But I'll get my plaid, and out I'll steal,

And owre the hills to Nannie, 0.

My Nannie's charming, sweet, and young,

Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, 0 : May ill befa' the flattering tongue

That wad beguile my Nannie, O.

Her face is fair, her heart is true,

As spotless as she's bonny, 0: The opening gowan, wat wi' dew, Nae purer is than Nannie, O.

A country lad is my degree,

And few there be that ken me, 0; But what care I how few they be?

I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O.

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My riches a's my penny-fee,

And I maun guide it cannie, O; But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,

My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O.

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Our auld guidman delights to view

His sheep and kye thrive bonny, 0; But I'm as blithe that hauds his pleugh,

And has na care but Nannie, O.

Come weel, come woe, I care na by,

I'll tak what Heaven will sen' me, 0 ; Nae ither care in life have I

But live and love my Nannie, O!

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Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,

Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays,

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Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream-
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds through the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear-
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

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How pleasant s kaidras beor,
Where wid in the wood se pamroses bow:
There, oft as mad esening wees ore toe 'ea.
The sweet-scented birk saios y Vay and me.

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Thy crystal stream. Aiton. how joves it gades.
And winds by the cot where my Vary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave.
As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave.

IP

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream-
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream!

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The Catrine woods were yellow seen,

The flowers decay'd on Catrine lea, Nae laverock sang on hillock green,

But nature sicken'd on the ee. Through faded groves Maria sang,

Hersel in beauty's bloom the while, And aye the wild-wood echoes rang,

Fareweel the Braes o Ballochmyle!

Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,

Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair ; Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers,

Again ye 'll charm the vocal air : But here, alas! for me nae mair

Shall birdie charm or floweret smile : Fareweel the bonny banks of Ayr,

Fareweel, fareweel, sweet Ballochmyle!

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