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Dear Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
Ye unco sair oppress us;
Our fancies jee between you twae,
Ye are sic bonnie lasses.
Waes me! for baith I canna get,
To ane by law we're stented;
Then I'll draw cuts, and tak my fate.
And be with ane contented.


How blythe was I ilk morn to see
My swain come o'er the hill!
He leap'd the burn, and flew to me,
I met him wi' good will.

O, the broom, the bonnie bonnie broom,
The broom of the Cowdenknowes.
I wish I were wi' my dear swain,
Wi' his pipe and my ewes.

I neither wanted ewe nor lamb,
While his flocks near me lay;
He gather'd in my sheep at night.
And cheer'd me a' the day.

O, the broom, &c.

He tun'd his pipe and reed so sweet,

The birds stood list'ning by;