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King Gregory sat in Dumbarton tower,
He looked a far o'er land and sea;
He saw his grey hills round him stand,
And the vale and the greenwood tree

He saw the links and the shores of Clyde,
And the sea that rowed wi' ceaseless play;
It was dyed wi' green, it was dyed wi' red,
And it tried to climb the rock so grey,
But aye it fell wi' a grumbling sound,
And left behind the dewy spray.

It was not the mountain, it was not the dale,
Nor the fairy hues that dyed the sea,
Nor the wave that wrestled wi' the rock,
That drew King Gregory's wistful e'e;

It was the maidens of Leven side

That walked or played with blythsome glee, For they were lythe of lire and limb,

And O but they were bright of blee!

King Gregory went into his bower,

That bower was fair and that bower was wide;

King Gregory went into his hall,

And he strode it o'er from side to side.

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