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Rh The next time I go o’er the muir,

ſhe ſhall a lover find me;

And that my faith is firm and pure,

tho I left her behind me:

Then Hymen’s ſacred bonds ſhall chain

my heart to her fair boſom,

There, while my being does remain,

my love more freſh ſhall bloſsom.

I was on Monday-morning,

that day appointed was,

That I went forth into the broom,

to meet my bonny laſs:

So blyth and merry was my heart,

to bear her company

And ſhe’s low down, ſhe’s in the broom,

waiting for me.

Waiting for me, my dear,

waiting for me,

And ſhe’s low down, ſhe’s in the broom,

where merry ſhall we be.

I looked o’er my left ſhoulder

to ſee what I could ſee,

And there I ſpy’d my own true love

come linking o’er the lee,