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| | The Child Ballads: 12. Lord Rendal (Site not responding. Last check: 2007-10-31) |
 | | And what becam of them, my handsome young man? They stretched their legs out an died; mother, mak my bed soon, For Im wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down. 12A.6 O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son! |
 | | What like were your fishes, my jollie young man? Black backs and spreckld bellies; mither, mak my bed sune, For Im sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun. 12B.6 O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my son! |
 | | What gaed she you for to drink, Willie, my doo? 12L.8 She gaed me hemlock stocks; make my bed, lay me down; Made in the brewing pot; die shall I now! 12L.9 They made his bed, laid him down, poor Willie doo, Willie doo; He turnd his face to the wa; hes dead now! |
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