Page:Merry Muses of Caledonia.djvu/59

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Green grow the rashes, O, Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest bed that e'er I got, Was the bellies o' the lassies, O. 'Twas late yestreen I met wi' ane And wow but she was gentle, O; Ae han' she pat to my gravat, The tither to my p—t—e, O.

I dought na speak, yet was na fly'd. My heart play'd duntie, duntie, 0, A' ceremonie laid aside, I fairly faund her c—t—ie, O.