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An' cuddle there fu' kindly
Wi' me, my kind dearie, O!
At thorny bush, or birken tree,
We'll daff, and never weary, O;
They'll scug ill e'en frae you and me,
My ain kind dearie, O.

Nae herd wi' kent or colly, there
Shall ever come to fear ye, O;
But lav'rocks, whistling in the air,
Shall woo, like me, their dearie, O.
While ithers herd their lambs an' ewes,
An' toil for warld's gear, my joe,
Upon the lee my pleasure grows,
Wi' thee, my kind dearie, O.

At gloaming, if my lane I be,
Oh, but I'm wond'rous eerie, O,
An' mony a heavy sigh I gi'e,
Whun absent frae my dearie, O;
But seated 'neath the milk-white thorn,
In ev'ning fair and clearie, O,
Enraptur'd, a' my cares I scorn,
Whan wi' my kind dearie, O.

Whar thro' the birks the burnie rows,
Aft ha'e I sat fu' cheerie, O,
Upon the bonnie greensward howes,
Wi' thee, my kind dearie, O.

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