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When that he ſaw his blood ſae red, to flee might nae man let him; He wean'd it had been for auld feed, he thought and bade have at him: He gart his feet defend his head, the far fairer it ſet him, While he was paſt out of all plead, he ſoud been ſwift that gat him, Thro' ſpeed that day.

The town-fouter in grief was bouden, his wife hang at his waiſt, His body was wi' blood a' browden, he grain'd like ony ghaiſt; Her glittering hair that was ſae gowden, ſhe had in love him lac'd,                      that for her ſake he was not yowden, while he a mile was chac'd                                     And mair that day.

The miller was of manly make, to meet him was nae mows; There durſt nae tenſome there him take ſae knoyted he their pows: The buſhment hale about him brake, and bicker'd him wi' bows; Syne trait'rouſly behind his back, they hew'd him in the hows Behind that day.