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I've serv'd my king and country lang— Take pity on a sodger!

Sae wistfully she gaz’d on me, And lovelier grew than ever ; Quo’ she, a sodger ance I lo’ed, Forget him shall I never'; Our humble cot and homely fare. Ye freely shall partake it; That gallant badge, the dear cockade, Ye're welcome for the sake o’t.

She gaz’d—she redden’d like a rose— Syne pale like ony lily, She sank within my aims and cried. Art thou my ain dear Willie ? By Him who made yon sun and sky— By whom true love's regarded, I am the man ; and thus may still True lovers be rewarded!

The wars are o’er, and I’m come hame, And find thee still true-hearted ! Tho’ poor in gear, we’re rich in love, And mair we’se ne'er be parted. Quo’ she, my grandsire left me gowd, A mailen plenish’d fairly.