The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction - Volume 17, No. 485, April 16, 1831 by Various
page 43 of 49 (87%)
page 43 of 49 (87%)
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Syne knotted she nine,
A tempest stoop'd sudden And sharp on the brine, And away flew the boat-- There's a damsel in Larg Will wonder what's come of thee Young Sandy Harg. "The sky's spitting fire," Cried Sandy--"and see! Green Criffel reels round, And will choke up the sea; From their bottles of tempest The fiends draw the corks, Wide Solway is barmy, Like ale when it works; There sits Satan's daughter, Who works this dread darg, To mar my blythe bridal" Quoth young Sandy Harg. From his bosom a spell To work wonders he took, Thrice kiss'd it and smiled, Then triumphantly shook The boat by the rudder, The maid by the hair, With wailings and shrieks She bewilder'd the air; He flung her far seaward, |
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