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Poem by Robert Burns * * * I met a lass, a bonnie lass, Coming o’er the braes o’ Couper, Bare her leg and bright her een, And handsome ilka bit about her. Weel I wat she was a quean Wad made a body’s mouth to water; Our Mess John, wi’ his lyart pow, His haly lips wad lickit at her. Robert Burns Robert Burns's other poems:
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