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You cannot make too much amends,
for all their toils and dangers,
                                   Then O relieve, &c.

HAD AWA' FRAE ME DONALD.

O Will ye ha'ea tartan plait,
or will ye ha'e ta ring, Mattam ?
Or will you ha'e a kiſs o' me ?
and tat's te pretty ting, Mattam.
Had awa', bide awa',
had awa' frae me, Donald;
I'll neither kiſs, nor ha'e a ring,
nae tartan plaids for me Donald.

O ſee you not her ponny progues,
her fecket-plait, plue green, Mattam;
Her twa ſhort hoſe, and her twa ſpiogs,
an' a ſhoulter-pelt apeen, Mattam.
Had awa', bide awa',
had awa' frae me, Donald ;
Nae ſhoulder-belts, nae trinkabouts,
nae tartan hoſe for me, Donald.

Her can pe ſhaw a petter hough,
t'an him who wears ta crown, Mattam!
Herſel' ha'e piſtol and claymore,
ta flee ta Lallant lown, Mattam,
Had awa', had awa',
had awa' frae me, Donald;
For a' your houghs and warlike arms,
you're no a match for me, Donald.