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Updated: May 6, 2025
'Bring him to me, ye hounds, before I put a curse on ye, and she tore her coorie from her head, and the wind tore through the strands of her white hair, and they rose like elf-locks. High above her head she threw her arm, her fingers stiff and pointing, there on the quay-head, an awesome sight in the mirk of a half moon. "Then slowly, slowly, softly she began
Aweel, Hamish and me will just be having a sail this night, storm or no', and the Gull can coorie into mony's the neuk among the rocks; but whit bates me is how they fun' oot the cove." "It would just be Dol Bob that told," whispered Mirren. "The dirty slink," cried Dan.
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