A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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I LOVED A LASS
Oh I loved a lass, and I loved her sae well
That I hated all others of her who spak ill.
But now she’s rewarded me well for my love.
She is gone to be wed to another.
When I saw my love go through the church door,
The bride and bridesmaidens they made a fine show.
I followed her in with my heart full of woe,
For now she is wed to another.
When I saw my love sit down to dine,
I sat down beside her and poured out the wine.
I gazed on the lassie that should have been mine,
But now she is wed to another.
The men of yon forest, they ask it of me:
How many strawberries grow in the salt sea?
I ask of them back, with a tear in my ee:
How many ships sail in the forest?
Traditional Scottish
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