Page:Ewie wi' the crooked horn.pdf/4

4 O had she died o’ crook or cauld, As ewies do when they are auld, It wadna been by mony fauld, Sae sair a heart to ane o’s a’.

For a’ the claith that we hae worn, Frae her and her’s sae aften shorn, The loss o’ her I could hae borne, Had fair strae death taen her awa.

But thus poor thing to lose her life, Aneath a greedy villain’s knife, I’m really fear’d that our gudewife, Shall never win about ava.

O all ye bards beneath Kinghorn, Call your muses up and mourn, Our ewie wi the crooked horn, Is stown frae us and felled an a’.

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SHE LIVES IN THE VALLEY BELLOW.

The broom bloomed so fresh and so fair, The lambkins were sporting around, When I wandered to breathe the fresh air, And by chance a rich treasure I found, A lass sat beneath a green shade, For whose smiles the world I’ll forego; As blooming as May was the maid, And she lives in the valley, she lives in the valley, the valley below.