BY MARION ANGUS
Lad, come kiss me
Whaur the twa burns rin.
Am I no' sweet as honey,
Wild as gouden whin,
Slim as the rowan,
Lips like berries reid,
Fey s siller mune-floo'er
That sprang frae fairy seed?
Luve, come clasp me
Whaut the twa burns rin, ---
A'but the white soul o' me
That ye can never win.
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