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 XXXII

THE TWA CORBIES

As I was walking all alane,

I heard twa corbies making a mane:

The tane unto the tither say,

'Where sail we gang and dine the day?'

'In behint yon auld fail dyke

I wot there lies a new-slain knight;

And naebody kens that he lies there

But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, Sae we may mak' our dinner sweet.

Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll thcek our nest when it grows bare.

Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sail ken where he is gane: O'er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sail blaw for evermair.'

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