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fragnt—her flog locks
her flog locks, the raven&039;s g,
adown her neck and bo hg;
how sweet unto that breast to clg,
and round that neck ene her!
her lips are roses wat wi&039; dew,
o&039; what a feast her bonie ou&039;!
her cheeks a air celestial hue,
a crin still diver!
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