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I wairt my fee wi canny care,
As far as it would gae,
But weel I wat our bridal bed
Was clean pea-strae.

Wi working late and early,
We’re come to what you see,
For fortune thrave aneath our hands,
Sae eydent ay were we.
The lowe of love made labour light,
I’m sure ye’ll find it sae,
When kind ye cuddle down, at e’en
’Mang clean pease-strae.

The rose blooms gay on cairny brae,
As weel’s in birchen shaw,
And love will lowe in cottage low,
As weel’s in lofty ha’.
Sae, lassie, take the lad ye like,
Whate’er your minnie say,
Tho’ ye should make your bridal bed
Of clean pease-strae.

FINIS.