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altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
and i were ne'er sae weary o,
i'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
my ain kind dearie o.
the hunter lo'es the morning sun;
to rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
at noon the fisher seeks the glen
adown the burn to steer, my jo:
gie me the hour o' gloamin' grey,
it maks my heart sae cheery o,
to meet thee on the lea-rig,
my ain kind dearie o.
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