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Robin he's gane to the wude

THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN—B

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Harris MS., fol. 26 b, No 25, from Miss Harris.

1

Robin he's gane to the wast,
Hollin, green hollin
He's waled a wife amang the warst.
Bend your bows, Robin

2

She could neither bake nor brew,
For spoilin o her bonnie hue.

3

She could neither spin nor caird,
But fill the cup, an sair the laird.

4

She could neither wash nor wring,
For spoilin o her gay goud ring.

5

Robin's sworn by the rude
That he wald mak an ill wife gude.

6

Robin he's gaun to the fauld,
An taen his blaik [wither] by the spauld.

7

He's taen aff his wither's skin
An he has preened his ain wife in.

8

‘I daurna beat my wife, for a' her kin,
But I may beat my wither's skin.’

9

‘I can baith bake an brew;
What care I for my bonnie hue?

10

‘I can baith wash an wring;
What care I for my gay gowd ring?

11

‘I can baith spin an caird;
Lat onybodie sair the laird.’

12

Robin's sworn by the rude
That he has made an ill wife gude.