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 Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of slumbers, How your dread howling lover alarms Wauken ye breezes, gently ye lows, And waft my dear ladie ance mair my arms

But oh, if he's faithless and mind nae Nannie, Flow still between us, thou wide-roa m May I never see it, may I never trow But, dying, believe that my Willie's ain.