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I care not which with either pleased, So I possess my Sally, That little merry nymph, who eries, “Sweet lilies of the valley."

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HILLS OF GALLOWA.

Amang the birks sae blythe and gay, I met my Jalia hameward gaua; The linties chantit on the spray, The lammies lowpit on the lawn; On ilka swaird the hay was mown, The braes wi' gowans buskit braw; And gloamin's plaid of grey was thrawn Cut o’er the hills of Gallowa.

Wi’ music wild the woodlands rang, And fragrance winged alang the lee, When down we sat, the flowers amang, Upon the banks of stately Dee. My Julia's arms encircled me; Then sweetly slade the hours awa, Till dawn in ' coost a glimmerin' ee, Upon the hills o' Gallowa.

It is nae Essen, sheep and kye, It is nae gowd, it is nae gean,