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[A small chuckle.]

And ye shall walk in silk attire,
And siller ha'e to spare,
Gin ye'll consent to be his bride;
Nor think o' Donald mair.
Oh! wha wad buy a silken gown,
Wi' a poor broken heart?
Or what's to me a siller crown,
Gin frae my love I part.
And ye shall walk in silk attire
And siller ha'e to spare,
Gin ye'll consent to be his bride,
Nor think o' Donald mair.

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