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 " Lang your love has made me fain,

" Take me-take me for your ain!"

Cross the firth, away they glide,

Young Donald and his Lowland bride.

There's fouth of braw Jockes and Jennies

Comes weel buskit into the fair,

With ribbons on their cockernonies,

And fouth of fine flour in their hair.

O Maggie she was sae weel busked,

That Willie was tied to his bride;

The pony was ne'er better whisked

With a cudgel that hung frae his side.

But Maggie was wondrous jealous,

To see Willie busked sae braw;

And Sawney he sat in the ale-house,

And hard at the liqour did ca',

There was Georgie that weel lo'ed his lassie,

He took the pint stoup in his arms,

And hugged it, and said, Troth they're saucy

That lo'es na a gude father's bairn.

There was Wattie, the muirland laddie,

Was mounted upon a grey cowte,