Our youngest sister found them there,
And wiped them clean wi' her yellow hair;
And every day she sits and grieves,
And covers them o'er wi' the wabron leaves.
Then our twin souls they sought the sky,
And were welcome guests in the heavens high;
And we gat our choice through all the spheres
What lives to lead for a thousand years.
Then humble, old matron, lend us thine aid,
For this night the choice is to be made;
And we have sought thy lowly hearth
For the last advice thou giv'st on earth.
Say, shall we skim o'er this earth below,
Beholding its scenes of joy and woe;
And try to reward the virtuous heart,
And make the unjust and the sinner smart?
Or shall we choose the star of love,
In a holy twilight still to move;
Or fly to frolic, light and boon,
On the silver mountains of the moon?
O, tell us, for we hae nane beside!
Our daddy's gane, and our mammy's a bride.
She is blitliely laid in her bridal sheet,
But a spirit stands at her bed feet.
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