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"The pearl may be pure, Tib, though Sae come doon the stair, Tib, an' e'en
rough be the shell
Sae I'm determined to wed ye mysel❜-
O' this warld's wealth, lass, troth nought shall ye want;
Sae a kiss to the bargain ye maun gi'e to me."
Very weel, sir," quo' Tibby, "sae let it be."
The weddin'-day come, wi' its bride-cake an' bans,
Fand Tib i' the kitchen 'mang tubs, pats,
"Bless me," quo' the laird, "what on earth hauds you here?
Our frien's a' are met, in their braw bridal gear;
Ye maun busk in your best, lass, an' that Gin reft frae friends, or crost in love, as speedilie." whiles, nae doubt, ye've been, "Very weel, sir," quo' Tibby, 'sae let Grief lies deep hidden in your heart, or it be."
or tears flow frae your een,
Believe it for the best, and trow there's
good in store for you,
For ilka blade o' grass keps ain drap o' dew.
In lang, lang days o' simmer, when the clear and cloudless sky
Rufuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd and dry,
The genial night wi' balmy breath gaurs vendure spring anew,
An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.
"Noo, Tibby, ye ken, we were wedded Sae lest 'mid fortune's sunshine the nicht, should feel ower proud an' hie, An' that ye should be here, haith, I think An' in our pride forget to wipe the fear is na richt. frae poorith's ee,
It canna be richt; for, when women and Some wee dark cluds o' sorrow come, we ken na whence or hoo,
Are wedded, they ought to be bedded, ye | Bnt ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.
Burd Ailie sat doun by the wimplin'
Wi' the red, red rose in her hair;
As her heart throbb'd fast an' sair.
She murmur'd her true luve's name,
An' the ship sae far frae hame!
For the ship's i' the howe o' a roarin wave,
"Oh tell me-oh tell me, thou bonnie
Did he mind on the nicht langsyne,
Was his heart aye true to mine?"
An' the coral's his bridal bed!"
Burd Ailie lay low by the wimplin' burn,
The robin flew hie ower the gowden But gane was the glance o' her bonnie
An' he warbl'd fu' cheerilie.
An' the robin sang nae mair.
"Oh tell me-oh tell me, thou bonnie For an angel cam' doun at the fa' o' the
Will I ever my true luve see?"
Then saftly an' sweetly the robin sang-
As she murmur'd her true luve's name,
An' the ship that wad ne'er come hame !
Commercial Printing Company, Edinburgh.