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THE BROTHERS.

205

'O sair was the wrang and sair the fray,'
(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)
'But liefer had love be slain than slay.'
And the wind wears owre the heather.

'O sweet is the life that sleeps at hame,'
(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)
'But I maun wake on a far sea's faem.'
And the wind wears owre the heather.

'And women are fairest of a' things fair,'
(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)
'But never shall I kiss woman mair.'
And the wind wears owre the heather.

Between the birk and the aik and the thorn
(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)
He's laid his brother to lie forlorn:
And the wind wears owre the heather.

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