Page:Posthumous poems (IA posthumousswinb00swin).pdf/67

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THE WORM OF SPINDLESTONHEUGH
 
"Ye'll get no claith to hap you in,
Ye'll get no coats of me;
Ye'll get nae mair but a riven smock
To wear on your body."

And she's ate of the foul swine's meat
With her saft lips and fine;
She's put her mouth to the rank water,
Was poured amang the swine.

Never ae word spak Lady Helen,
Never ae word but twa;
"O gin my mither had hands to help,
I wad be weel holpen awa'."

Never ae word spak Lady Helen,
Never ae word but three;
"O gin my mither had lips to kiss,
Sae weel she wad kiss me!

"She wad kiss me on my ravelled hair,
The foul cheek and the chin;
She wad kiss me on the weary mouth,
Where the rank water gaed in."

Out then came the witch mother:
"What ails ye now to greet?
Here's grass to hap ye dry, Helen,
And straw to hap ye sweet."

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