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I'll sit like Deith i' the spectre-bark, and blaw intil his sails a' that I can blaw. Maybe ye dinna ken that verse i' The Rhyme o' the Ancient Mariner? It was left oot o' the later editions: 'A gust of wind sterte up behind, And whistled through his bones; Through the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth, Half-whistles and half-groans. There! that's spicy�-for them 'at likes ghaistry."
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