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 Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted; Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted; A garter, which a babe had strangled; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o...  Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect: By Robert Burns. In Two Volumes. A ... - Pagina 202 door Robert Burns - 1798 Volledige weergave -
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