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Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver

By William Thom. Edited, with a Biographical Sketch, by W. Skinner

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In that cauld lang nicht, in that dark lang nicht,
When the wild winds scoured the plain,
An unkent Branch of an unkent tree
Was tossed near the Nettle's domain.
An' the weary—weed-like—withering thing,
Lay low at the lair of that Nettle king;
Where nane might dare a byding place,
But that King and his kindred Hemlock race.