That lays att the fitt of the tree,
An o my sister Meassry
The machrel of the sea.
3
‘An every Saterday att noon
The machrl comes ea to me,
An she takes my laylë head,
An lays it on her knee,
An keames it we a silver kemm,
An washes it in the sea.
That lays att the fitt of the tree,
An o my sister Meassry
The machrel of the sea.
3
‘An every Saterday att noon
The machrl comes ea to me,
An she takes my laylë head,
An lays it on her knee,
An keames it we a silver kemm,
An washes it in the sea.