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8 I've lain a towmond in the ground, And yet my grave has ne'er been green, While a' around wi' flowers abound, For this I hae to thank your een. What ! wad you hae me come again ? Is aught in life sae sweet to prie ? A bitter draught o' grief and pain, It prov'd to Samuel Macaree.

Ere lang gae by we baith shall meet, An' marry never to be twin'd—" Here down I fell to kiss his feet, But feint a foundit could I find, Nor saw him mair, but i' my ear, These words were harkit tenderly — "Adieu my Ann, to mourn forbear, Oh ! pity Samuel Macaree."

FINIS.