A Collection of Ballads by Andrew Lang
page 40 of 301 (13%)
page 40 of 301 (13%)
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The carline wife's three sons came hame,
And their hats were o the birk. It neither grew in syke nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh; But at the gates o Paradise That birk grew fair eneugh. * * * * * "Blow up the fire, my maidens! Bring water from the well; For a' my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well." And she has made to them a bed, She's made it large and wide; And she's taen her mantle her about, Sat down at the bedside. * * * * * Up then crew the red, red cock, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, "'Tis time we were away." The cock he hadna crawd but once, And clapp'd his wings at a', Whan the youngest to the eldest said, |
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