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Tune, 'Laddie, lie near me,'
'Twas nae her bonnie blue e'e was my ruin; Fair tho’ she be, that was ne'er my undoing : 'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us, 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kind.
Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
END OF VOL. XXXVIII.