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GAT ye me, O gat ye me, An' gat ye me wi naething; A rock, a reel, a spinning wheel, A gude black c -- t was ae thing. A tocher fine, o'er muckle far, When sic a scullion gat it; Indeed, o'er muckle far gudewife, For that was ay the fau't o't. But had your tongue now, Luckie Lang, O had your tongue and jander, I held the gate till you I met, Syne I began to wander;
I tint my whistle an' my sang, I tint my peace an' pleasure; But your green grave now, Lucky Lang, Wad airt me to my treasure.
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