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O GAT YE ME WI' NAETHING.
An old song.
"Gat ye me, O gat ye me,
And 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 scallion gat it."
"Indeed o'er muckle far, gudewife,
For that was aye the faut o't.
"But haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
O haud your tongue and jander.
I held the gate till you I met,
Syne I began to wander.
"I tint my whistle and my sang,
I tint my peace and pleasure,
But your green grave now, Luckie Laing,
Wad airt me to my treasure."