VIII
‘But out ye tak’ your little pen-knife,
And frae my sark ye shear a gare[229];
Row[230] that about your lovely head,
And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’
‘But out ye tak’ your little pen-knife,
And frae my sark ye shear a gare[229];
Row[230] that about your lovely head,
And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’